Confessions of a Cat Owner
by LeFay Strent
Summary: When Arthur checked on his latest upload to YouTube, he didn't expect the comments section to be flooded by a different fanbase. "Who is Alfred and why is everyone commenting about him?" YouTube AU
1. Chapter 1

**Based on the youtube au from jokermun's tumblr.**

* * *

When Arthur checked on his latest upload to YouTube, he didn't expect the comments section to be flooded by a different fanbase.

"Who is Alfred and why is everyone commenting about him?" Arthur asked himself. He sat at his computer, scrolling and scanning the comments, nearly every other one popping out with Alfred's name. It momentarily confused Arthur, seeing as how the video he'd uploaded had documented an ordinary trip to the vet for his beloved Scottish Fold, Jasper. No one he had spoken to that day had been called Alfred, as far as he was aware. So why?

Arthur glanced at his cat suspiciously. "Did you have something to do with this?"

Jasper lay on top of the nearby bookshelf, fluffy tail twitching back and forth and mossy green eyes narrowing at Arthur as if to say, "Why yes, this is my clever scheme to take over your channel. The time for the feline empire to rise has come. Bow down to me, Human."

Arthur snorted at the thought. "As if you would need to take it over. My channel already consists of you enough." Considering how his channel was titled "Confessions of a cat owner," that wasn't an exaggeration.

Turning back to the computer, Arthur made an effort to actually read some of the comments rather than skim through. What he learned was that this Alfred had apparently watched some of his videos.

 _Good for him?_ Arthur thought, not understanding why this was such an exciting occasion. There were plenty of people who watched his videos; he had over a hundred thousand subscribers. What made Alfred so special?

"A gamer?" Arthur murmured. "He has a gaming channel. What's he doing watching _my_ videos then. Last time I checked, you aren't a game, are you Jasper?"

Jasper laid his head down, completely ignoring his owner.

Arthur shook his head and decided to check out Alfred's channel. Not because he was interested in gaming or who this Alfred bloke may be! Arthur merely needed to ascertain what the gamer had said about his channel to warrant such a strong reaction in his comment section. For all Arthur knew, Alfred had talked shit about his channel and sent his viewers to harass Arthur. It was a valid concern, considering he saw a couple of people say, "Watch out Arthur, Alfred's gonna fight you."

"Well bring it on, lad," Arthur said as he found someone in the comments who mentioned the name of Alfred's channel and which video the gamer had checked out Arthur's.

"Alfred the Hero, how adorable," Arthur teased at his computer screen as he clicked on the channel. "How many subscribers do you reckon he has, Jasper? A couple thousand? No, maybe ten thousand, at most."

Snickering, Arthur glanced at Alfred the Hero's sub count. He nearly toppled his chair when he lunged forward to gape at the screen.

" _Over two million?!_ " Arthur screamed. Jasper let out a grumbling meow of displeasure at his owner's loud antics, but Arthur had more important things to worry about than disrupting his cat's nap.

"How in the world does this prat have over _two million_ subscribers? It's just video games! It's not like it's worthwhile content. All you do is watch someone else play a game. How is that entertaining?"

The website must be on the fritz. Yes, that had to be it.

"Surely that many people don't waste their lives over something silly like this," Arthur said, leaning back in his chair to sit regularly. He thrummed his fingers by the computer mouse, still too baffled to get past staring at the sub count.

Arthur huffed and went to look at Alfred's videos. He found the particular video he was looking for rather quickly, seeing as it was one of the more recent uploads. It was the third installment of a play-through of a game called _Silent Hill 2_ , and from the creepy thumbnail Arthur guessed it fit in the horror genre. He clicked on it and waited with a scowl.

"Hey dudes! Welcome back to another action-packed adventure. When we last left off, our hero had just reached the Hell Side Apartments. That's what it's called now. The game lied before. It's not the Wood Side Apartments. It's filled with demons. But I've still gotta find my ghost wife, so wimpy demons, prepare to meet your maker!"

Arthur sat in a daze as he listened to the distinct American accent. It was an exuberant voice, filled with downright dorky determination, and not entirely bad to listen to. But that's not what had Arthur staring at the computer monitor so intently. No, it was the fact that, in a little box in one corner of the screen, Arthur could _see_ Alfred.

"Good lord…" Arthur gulped, ignoring the game in favor of staring at the gamer. Alfred was young, as Arthur would have guessed he'd be, but all the rest? Arthur couldn't have guessed that soft, honey colored strands of hair fell beneath bulky headphones. Or that behind admittedly sophisticated glasses, sky blue eyes played every emotion with vivid animation. Or the boyish curve of face…and the excited, blinding smile. The camera was even angled to where Arthur could see his firm shoulders and upper torso clothed in a tight T-shirt, and Arthur found himself drinking in the sight with a tilt to his head.

Arthur may have to retract his earlier statements. He could _definitely_ see why watching someone like Alfred would be an entertaining pastime.

If only the man didn't scream like a little girl.

"OH MY GOD, IT TRIED TO EAT ME!" Alfred screamed, his face horror-stricken while he dodged some lumbering, four-legged creature. "I hate those things! I hate this place! Why for the love of God do I only have a stick?! Give me a gun. I need a gun. Please tell me this game has guns."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Typical American, going mad without his gun. Still, Arthur had to admit, it was pretty hilarious to watch Alfred running around like a headless chicken. Yes, Arthur had begun this video with ulterior motives, but it's not like he knew exactly when in the video that Alfred supposedly checked out his channel. He might as well enjoy the show.

And what a show it was. Even when monsters weren't running about, Alfred would jump at shadows or random patches of blood. Arthur did appreciate the heavy, dark atmosphere of the game, but it wasn't _that_ scary. For all of Alfred's bravado, he was like a trembling little kitten.

"You should come watch this Jasper," Arthur laughed. "He's yelling at a television now. Why don't you just whack it with your stick, lad?"

"STOP BEING CREEPY!" Alfred yelled as his game character struck the TV with a wooden plank.

Arthur had to pause the video, he laughed so hard.

"This…this absolute _git!_ " Arthur chuckled. "He actually did it! Hahaha!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Arthur continued the video. He watched, totally invested in Alfred's dramatic gaming tactics. Maybe some would doubt the authenticity of Alfred's fear, would say he acted over-the-top for more views, but something about Alfred's reactions screamed genuine.

At one point, when a monster snuck up on him mid-sentence, Alfred literally squealed in terror, paused the game, and snatched the headphones off. He slumped over to the side, face in hands and the microphone picking up the slight sound of his muffled, heavy breaths.

"A bit too much for you?" Arthur teased lightly, though really he felt the strangest urge to reach through the monitor and touch Alfred's heaving shoulder. Surely the boy wasn't crying, was he?

No, thankfully when Alfred sat back up, there were no tears (or at least none Arthur could see). Instead of fear, now resolve hardened the American's features. Arthur blinked at the sudden change. What would Alfred do now? Would he dive back in, throw caution to the wind, and fight the monster off in a daring battle?

"Wait…what's he doing?" Arthur asked himself.

Alfred, rather than unpausing the game, exited from the game entirely. Black enveloped the screen, which quickly switched to the search engine for Google. Alfred must have switched over to look something up on his computer.

"Here we go," Alfred said as he typed in what he wanted.

Cats. Hundreds of pictures of cats.

"Are you serious," Arthur said, unimpressed.

As if in answer, Alfred chirped, "Nothing like cat therapy to heal a stressed heart. Not that I was stressed or anything. I could totally take that demon on. Just making a pit stop here. Don't mind me folks. Oh wait! Better yet, let's look up some videos!"

And that's what he did. Alfred went to YouTube and searched for cats. He clicked on a compilation of cats sneezing.

"Aww, look at 'em!" Alfred cooed.

Arthur had to look away for a moment and stare wordlessly at his own cat. Jasper eyed him back, and for a moment Arthur imagined the feline could understand his exasperation.

Following the symphony of sneezing cats, Alfred looked for another cat video.

"My cat is out to get me," Alfred murmured, reading the title of the video. Arthur whipped his head back around when he recognized the title. "Aww, what did his kitty do?"

That was all it took for Alfred to click on the video. It loaded, and then Arthur was viewing his own face.

"Sometimes, I really think this cat is out to get me," the Arthur in the video confessed to the camera. He looked down at his lap, where Jasper lay uncaring of his master's dilemma.

"He's so cute!" Alfred yelled. "Both of them!"

Wait, what?

While Arthur sat in shock at his computer desk, the Arthur on screen continued talking, "This morning when I finished my shower, I stepped on a dead bird that my cat no doubt left on the bath matt for me. Though I can't decide whether this was to flaunt his hunting prowess at me or simply a misconception that I cannot fend for myself and must have meals caught in my honor. Either way, I do not appreciate the sentiment, nor the effort I had to put in to explain to my neighbor as to why I was caught exiting my home holding a bird carcass. Now 'bird killer' will surely be added to the list of names my neighbors affectionately call me."

Alfred laughed, obnoxiously loud, and demanded, "Lay off the cat, dude! He was trying to help ya out! Just look at his face. How could you think a face like that was evil? Holy shit, his ears are so floppy. I wanna pet 'em!"

"Jasper, you have a fan," Arthur called to his cat half-heartedly.

As the video continued with Arthur musing on Jasper's wicked intentions, so did Alfred's laughter.

"This dude is hilarious. He talks a lot of crap about his cat, but you can tell he adores him."

"Lies," Arthur denied quietly. "He is the bane of my existence."

"It's cute," Alfred smiled. "I'm gonna fight him, make him admit he has a super, adorable cat."

"I don't think he's aware that we live in separate countries," Arthur confided in his cat.

"I'm gonna subscribe," Alfred said, doing just that.

"You were just declaring your desire to fight me, why can't you stay consistent?!" Arthur yelled at the computer.

"Okay, time for more monster fighting!" Alfred cheered. He switched back over to the game screen and stared at it for a full ten seconds before clicking off. "On second thought, we've covered enough ground today. The hero has earned a break. I'll catch you dudes in the next video. Peace out!"

The video ended.

Arthur slumped in his chair, wiping at his face.

"How exhausting," he said and pushed out of his chair. He was going to go sleep for the next five years.

* * *

 **I looked up popular cat names in England and Jasper was on the list. So yeah…**


	2. Chapter 2

**I never planned to write more on this, but you guys suckered me into this. Here, have some dorks.**

* * *

Alfred loved playing co-op with people. The strategizing, throwing about commentary, having someone at your back, rushing in to save your partner from imminent doom at the last second— Nothing beat the thrill, and that's why, being so charismatic, Alfred reached out to other youtubers in the gaming community and would collaborate with some often. Sure, the views and likes would usually spike up whenever he did, but Alfred was only in for the fun of video games!

…okay, maybe it was wicked cool that more people watched him in all of his heroic glory, but _mostly_ Alfred was here to play games. That's how he started this channel, and that's how he kept it today.

But back to collabs. Yeah, teaming up with other known players online was awesome, but what really got Alfred dancing and cheering, "Hell to the yeah!" were the times he managed to convince his twin, Matthew, to play with him.

"No," Matthew said, turning away from Alfred's puppy dog eyes. He refocused on the textbook in his lap. "I've got studying to do."

Pfft, like how could a college education be more important than saving a virtual world?

So Alfred, like the good brother he was, snatched the book away and fled the living room.

"Alfred, get back here, you hoser!" Matthew yelled. Fortunately, Alfred had hid the book somewhere in his bedroom by the time Matt caught up.

"S'up bro?" Alfred greeted, standing casually in the middle of the room.

"Don't 'bro' me. Where did you put it?" Matthew demanded, glancing this way and that.

"Where'd I put what? Gaming controllers? Got one right here for ya!"

"You know what I meant! Where's my book?"

Alfred rubbed his jaw and squinted at the air above, pretending to think for a moment. "I dunno. I _might_ remember where I put it if you play a game with me."

"Alfred, no, I should really—"

"What's that? You want to play all day long?"

"Alfred, _no!_ "

And that's how they ended up sitting side by side, controllers in hand and recording equipment ready to run. Matthew moped beside him, grumbling about needing to study, but Alfred knew he overworked himself too much. This would be both a break for Matt _and_ a great brotherly bonding session!

"C'mon Matt, don't be such a baby. You know my viewers love you! Do it for them!"

Matthew sent his brother a withering glare. "If only they knew what you're really like."

"I don't think they could withstand that level of greatness," Alfred grinned.

Matthew wrinkled his nose. "You're so conceited. What are we playing anyway?"

Alfred turned on the game console and settled back in his chair. "Just a little _Resident Evil._ "

"Again?"

"Hey, this is the sixth one. So what if it didn't get the best reception. I say we give it a chance!"

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Don't worry, Mattie. If you get scared of the zombies, I'll save you."

Matthew elbowed him. "More like I'll be saving you."

Once they were on the menu screen, Alfred began recording.

"Hey dudes! Welcome back to another gameplay with yours truly, Alfred the hero. Today, I'm here with my sidekick. Tell 'em hi, Mattie!"

"Hello internet people," Matthew spoke softly towards the mic. This wasn't his first recording session with Alfred, not by a long shot, but his shy nature was hard to overcome, especially knowing that thousands of people would watch this later.

"C'mon Matt, ya need to be louder," Alfred prompted.

Matthew sighed and tried again, leaning forward slightly, "I said hello."

"You can do better than that. Where's your game face, bro? Get aggressive!"

"Just how aggressive do you want me to be, Al? Do you want me to hit the mic?"

"That's more like it!" Alfred cheered. "Now we're ready to shoot some zombies."

After that, they debated on what campaign to pick. There were three to choose from, each following a set of main characters. Alfred wanted to play the second campaign first.

"It's Chris, the badass from the fifth game," Alfred argued. "And he's _military_. We have to play his first!"

"But Leon's is the first campaign," Matthew reasoned. "He's the one we should probably play first if we want the story to go in order."

"That's boring though," Alfred whined. "They wouldn't give us the option if it wasn't okay to."

"We could still miss something important."

They bickered back and forth like that for a solid minute. They would have gone on, but Matthew pulled a dick move and bribed him with his weakness.

"We can go to McDonald's later if we play Leon's first," Matthew practically sang.

How could Alfred say no? That was like his kryptonite!

"That's low, bro," Alfred sulked.

Matthew smirked, "Think of it as payback for kidnapping my textbook."

In the end, they played Leon's campaign. Alfred of course called dibs on Leon's character, leaving Matthew with the woman character, Helena. Somehow, Matthew always got stuck playing the chicks.

The game began with a viral outbreak, turning a college campus into zombie central. And for some reason the president was there, already zombified.

"Why was the president even there?" Matthew asked.

"Because he wanted to be," Alfred answered.

"But why though? This is a weird place to start and it doesn't exactly explain things enough."

"Yeah, but look at the graphics!"

Matthew rolled his eyes.

The game continued with their characters being forced to put down the president and escape from the campus. They talked over the game mechanics, had each other's back when hordes of zombies busted in through windows, and they immersed themselves completely.

"Hey Helena," Alfred called. "Can you get over here already and help me open this door?"

"Hey Leon," Matthew said. "Can you not have the patience of a five-year-old and let me mix these herbs?"

"Helena, babe, I don't this is working out," Alfred said. On screen, his character aimed his handgun at Matthew's character.

"What, are you going to shoot me?"

"No, I'm breaking up with you."

"Say it isn't so."

"I think we should see other people," Alfred said, moving Leon to do a dramatic turn like he was about to bid farewell and walk off into the sunset.

"I don't think you're going to get very far without me."

"You're just a side character anyway. I don't need you."

Matthew snorted, "You can't even open a door without me!"

"Watch me," Alfred said, moving his character to the double doors that led out of the building. He took out a knife and swiped at the doors over and over, accomplishing nothing.

Matthew wondered if it was worth it to waste one of his incendiary grenades right now and throw it at his brother. Alfred could tell that's what Matthew was thinking, using his twin telepathy powers. That _and_ the fact that Helena stood behind Leon, arm raised with grenade in hand.

Their session progressed like this for the rest of the game's first chapter. They would squabble in character, Matthew would complain about plot holes, Alfred would run ahead and force Matthew to chase after him before he got himself killed, and Alfred would jump at every cheap jump scare.

"Holy shit balls! Mattie, get it off me! Get it off me!"

"Nah, I think I'll just stand here and watch."

"Mattie _whyyyyyy!_ "

The chapter eventually ended with their characters meeting up with fellow survivors and escaping the zombie infested city using a bus.

As the bus zoomed away into the dark night, Matthew turned to his twin. "How much you want to bet that all of those survivors except us aren't going to make it out alive in the next chapter?"

"Don't be such a downer, Matt. We already escaped the city. What's the worst that can happen? Oh hey, look! I got more kills than you did!" Alfred became distracted when their scores for the chapter appeared.

Matthew smirked, "Yes, but my accuracy was far better."

" _Psh_ , who needs good aiming when you have a shotgun?"

"And this is why you run out of ammo."

Alfred ignored him and addressed the still recording camera. "That'll be it for now, folks. Be sure to catch us in the next video."

"We're going to crash a bus and die," Matthew said a little too perkily.

"Sssshhhh," Alfred hissed, pushing the palm of his hand over his brother's face, much to Matt's joy. "We're going to save more people, no buses will crash, and the zombies are gonna get their brains blasted. Peace out, dudes!"

After Alfred stopped the recording, he looked at Matthew with a pout. "Why do you have to doubt us like that?"

Matthew shrugged, "We met other survivors and they died. And we crashed that one cop car. We're only alive at this point because of our main character status. Let's face it Al, everyone else around us is bound to die."

"Wow Matt, you're about as lively as a funeral today," Alfred mumbled. "Your book's in my dresser, under my socks."

"Gee, thanks."

Alfred smiled and checked his phone. Him and Matthew had been at it for a couple of hours, so he'd gotten a handful of notifications to sift through. One in particular made him start bouncing up and down spastically in his chair.

"Oh my God, dude! Dude! He uploaded a new video! _Duuuuude!_ "

"I swear to God, Alfred. If you're talking about the cat guy again—"

"His _name_ is Arthur."

"Unbelievable," Matthew huffed.

Alfred paid him no mind. He was too busy squirming with happiness while he pulled the video up to watch on his phone. It loaded quickly. The video began outside, and from the looks of the house nearby and the scattering of flower gardens, Alfred assumed it was Arthur's front yard.

"Look at this," Arthur's voice came in, crisp and clear. Alfred couldn't see the Briton, seeing how Arthur must be behind the camera, but his voice was enough to make Al grin like an idiot.

The camera's focus landed on Jasper, the cutest cat ever. The kitty sat on one of the front steps of the house, his tail flicking from side to side as his large green eyes gazed at his territory.

"I can't get any work done without this one tailing me," Arthur grumbled. "And don't think that I don't know what you're up to, Jasper! He looks away every time I glance at him, putting on innocent airs. He's scheming, I tell you."

"Leave Jasper alooone," Alfred moaned, though still smiling. "He loves you. He wants to help."

"He'll be over here in a minute," Arthur predicted.

The video cut off there, then a new clip began. It showed a gap in a flower bed and a small shovel beside it, giving the impression that Arthur had been planting. To the right of the space, a furry head slinked through the bushes slowly.

"Ah, the mighty hunter," Arthur said. His voice took on a tone like that in a wildlife documentary. "Staying low to the ground and using nature's cover, he futilely stalks a prey that _already knows he's there_. The thrill of the hunt compels him far too strongly to use common sense."

Jasper carefully crept near his owner. Once close enough, he hunkered down, watching Arthur with pupil-blown eyes.

"He's within pouncing distance now," Arthur whispered, ramping up the tension. "His claws dig into the soil. Powerful muscles coil tightly in anticipation. This is the moment we have all been waiting for."

Seconds later, Jasper leapt from the foliage and landed onto Arthur's discarded shovel. His paws kicked at it for a moment, pushing it around before he rolled away gracefully to stand in the middle of the flower bed like nothing had happened.

"You silly creature," Arthur chuckled. His hand reached out to gently push Jasper over in order to tickle at his furry belly. Jasper interpreted the move as an attack and began biting at Arthur's fingers.

Alfred's smile faltered when the camera panned to Arthur's face. His lips were tugged back in a smirk, but his eyes, those meadow green eyes were twinkling with mirth even underneath the shadow of his gardening hat.

"You're lucky you're adorable," Arthur said in a warm tone that had Alfred's chest constricting sharply.

"So adorable," Alfred agreed, staring straight at Arthur.

"Why don't you just marry him already?" Matthew said from over Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred choked on air and would have flinched right out of his seat had Matthew not caught the chair.

"Jumpy much?" Matthew said, eyebrow raised.

"Don't sneak up on me!" Alfred yelled, clutching his phone against his thumping heart. "And yeah! Maybe I will marry him! Just to spite you!"

His brother laughed, "You'd have to meet him first. Or ya know, actually talk to him."

Alfred's eyes shot open wide. "Dude, what if I asked him to collab with me?"

Matthew stared at Alfred like he said something stupid, which wasn't a rare look from Matt as far as Alfred was concerned. "Al, he vlogs about his cat."

"Yeah?"

"And you have a gaming channel."

"Uh-huh?"

Matthew threw up his hands. "Never mind. I'm sure that's going to make a _great_ combination."

"Yeah, it'll be awesome! We'll make the most badass team." Alfred's eyes glazed over as he thought of the blond Brit, what he would say to Alfred, the games they would play and the situations where Alfred could swoop in and valiantly save Arthur...

Matthew poked him in the side of his head.

"Ow, what?" Alfred said, rubbing his temple.

"You're being creepy again. I don't even want to know what you were imagining."

"Cool things… Cool British things. With cats. And games."

"I'm leaving."

"Wait!" Alfred cried, thrusting his hands out towards his retreating twin. "Uh, how should I…ya know…ask him exactly?"

"Try using words. That usually helps."

" _Maaatt_. Like what _kind of_ words? Should I say, 'Yo, you like cats. I like cats. We're obviously meant to play games together.' Or should I— Hey, wait, don't leave me!"

Alfred chased after Matthew, determined to devise a starting point on how to approach Arthur.

* * *

 **And there he goes.**

 **Hope you guys liked a little brotherly gaming session. I really wanted to have someone to play off of Alfred and show more of what type of gamer he is. Matt's totally me, focusing on story content, while Al's just, "Ooooh, pretty. Lemme kill things." Plus, jokermun said in his AU that Alfred and Matthew would totally team up to game and bicker, and I couldn't resist. In his AU though, Matthew has his own gaming channel, but here, he doesn't. Maybe Alfred hasn't convinced him yet? At any rate, if Matthew ever made his own channel, all of his viewers would just think that Alfred got a second channel.**

 **So, I'll do** _ **one more chapter**_ **at the very least, to show Alfred and Arthur's interactions. Will they play games? Can they contain their shameless attraction to each other? Will Jasper sabotage the romance before it even begins?!**

 **I don't know. I haven't thought of it yet. But here, have some bonus content of Alfred and Matthew playing** _ **Resident Evil**_ **.**

* * *

"Wait, is this a cop car?"

"What does it matter?"

"We can't steal a cop car, Matt."

"Alfred, we're already inside of it. Hurry up and drive."

"But this isn't our cop car."

"Really? There are zombies banging against the window and you're going to argue about this?"

"It's the law, Mattie."

"THE LAW DOESN'T EXIST IN THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE, NOW DRIVE OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SHOVE YOU OUT OF THIS CAR!"

"…you didn't have to yell."

" _ALFRED!_ "

"Alright! Alright, I'm getting the keys! Sheesh."

* * *

Alfred and Matthew sat down for a new recording session. They began chapter 2 of Leon's campaign. The opening sequence showed the bus they escaped the city on, driving through the rainy night. Suddenly, a zombie appeared in the middle of the road. The bus plowed into him and the driver struggled to control the bus as it slid on the slick ground. It swerved off the road, only to come to a stop halfway over a cliff.

"Seriously? What did I tell you?" Matthew said.

"We're still alive!" Alfred hollered as the survivors began dying around them, being pulled out of the windows by a legion of undead.

"We better not go falling off this cliff," Matthew said, joining his brother as they fought off the incoming zombies. "Just who put a cliff here anyway? Was there even a safety railing?"

Just then, a movie clip interrupted them. An eighteen wheeler, covered in writhing zombie bodies, barreled towards them.

"Oh shit," Al gasped as Matt pointed at the screen and said, " _No_."

The tuck plowed into the bus, slamming them off their perch. The bus fell in slow motion to show the chaos inside. Past the windows, Leon and Helena floundered through the air and somehow floated directly towards each other to embrace in mid-air.

"No way," Matthew said while Alfred whispered, "Dude," over and over.

The screen went black. The next sequence showed Leon and Helena. Having been thrown from the bus, they stood up a ways from the wreckage, miraculously unharmed. The driver of the bus was still stuck inside. He reached towards the main characters, but the bus exploded.

" _Duuuuude_ ," Alfred practically squealed, so hyped.

"I hate this game." Matthew tossed the controller in his seat and walked away.

* * *

 **If you think that's bad Matt, just wait until they survive the plane crash. Like seriously, I have never seen characters survive so many vehicular accidents than in this game. Don't get me wrong, it's got great game mechanics and fun multiplayer, but the plot is so bad that I actually wrote a college paper on it. If you want a good laugh, try playing it sometime.**


	3. Chapter 3

**In which Arthur is a spazz and proves he is no better than the rest of us.**

* * *

Arthur stood at the stove, cooking chicken breast. He'd been poking at the meat, wondering if he'd seasoned it right, when he heard a suspicious jingling from behind him. Eyes narrowed, the blond spun to find a certain feline menace on the table, batting and biting at things that did not belong to him.

"Those are my keys, Jasper. Not your play thing," Arthur admonished. He stepped over to the table to snatch up the ring of keys.

Jasper sat up and licked his paw as if he'd done nothing wrong.

Arthur frowned. "These aren't where I left these anyhow. Stop running off with my things. I have enough trouble finding my keys as it is. And why are you on the table? You know you're not allowed."

Jasper gave a rumbling meow of displeasure when Arthur nudged him off his perch. Rather than scurry off, Jasper planted his rump down on the tile and stared up at Arthur. Master and pet locked gazes, neither of them wavering.

Arthur crossed his arms. "Don't give me those eyes. I still haven't forgiven you for using my shoe as your scratching post."

" _Mew_ ," Jasper said, round eyes seemingly growing just a bit larger. Arthur's determination faltered, and then the cat just had to go and lean back on its hind legs to stretch its paws on Arthur's leg. The gesture couldn't be mistaken for anything other than, "Pet me. Please. I demand petting."

"You're such a handful," Arthur sighed and leaned down to scratch folded ears.

* * *

Thanks to furry distractions, the chicken came out slightly blackened. Overall though, Arthur felt accomplished with his chicken salad. He took the plate with him to eat at his computer desk. There were some things that he wanted to check into. Eating while he worked would be efficient.

"This is mine," Arthur said, referring to his food. He knew Jasper was watching him with those woeful eyes again. "I already gave you yours."

That didn't stop Jasper from watching him intently from the bookshelf while Arthur perused through his email. Most of it was junk of course, but there were some work related ones that he went ahead and dealt with. Afterwards, he rewarded himself with going to YouTube to check out the comments of his newest video. Most of them would usually consist of adoration for Jasper, but there were typically a large handful of viewers who appreciated Arthur's content and wit.

Today, however, Arthur experienced the most severe case of déjà vu.

"You've got to be kidding me," Arthur said, gaping at the screen.

If he thought comments about Alfred were bad enough, getting one from the man himself completely exasperated the situation. Yes, Arthur knew the gamer had subscribed to his channel, but _this_? Arthur could hardly believe what he was seeing.

But there it was, clear as could be.

 **AlfredtheHero** _:_ " _Yo! Awesome video dude, you're really funny and you're cat is cute. I'd love to collab sometime, if your interested. Hit me up!"_

Arthur read it, then reread it no less than ten more times. After finally processing more than sheer disbelief, he managed to say faintly, "I don't believe he knows the difference between _your_ and _you're_."

Whatever could have brought this on? Had Arthur really woken up that morning? This had to be a dream. People like Alfred did not contact people like Arthur with good intentions. A joke then? But what would the gamer have to gain in the first place? On second thought, it was the fact that Alfred was a gamer that made Arthur suspicious. What on earth would a gaming channel want with his vlogging channel? About a _cat_?

"He's toying with me," Arthur confided in Jasper.

The cat raised its eyebrow incredulously, or that's how Arthur perceived Jasper's whiskered face anyway.

Arthur exhaled heavily, "Yes, I know, he doesn't seem like the type. But it's the cute and innocent looking ones who are always waiting to stab knives in your back. Just look at you for instance."

Arthur shouldn't have been so distracted or offensive, because Jasper took advantage of the opening and swooped up a piece of chicken off his half-eaten plate.

"Oi, get back here you mangy—!"

Too late. Jasper made a mad dash out the door. Arthur could have chased the scoundrel down, but he knew it wouldn't accomplish anything. Defeated, he slid down in his chair and mumbled, "You ungrateful bastard, deserting me in my time of need. I'll invest in a spray bottle. Just you wait. . ."

Immediately, his thoughts wrestled with Alfred's proposition. Yes, Arthur knew that Alfred had subscribed to his channel, had seen Alfred click the button with his own eyes. But Arthur never expected the American would keep watching. Why would he? Alfred had plenty of other interests, surely. It wouldn't be a stretch for him to entirely forget Arthur's videos.

Then a sinking realization had Arthur glancing at the computer nervously.

"Just how many videos has he watched?" Arthur wondered. "Good lord, what has he seen me do?"

Every possibly embarrassing moment from his many vlogs came rushing to him.

Arthur covered his now burning face. "Kill me now. All I film is my sodding cat; he must think I'm nutters. Or desperate— _God_ , kill me now."

On the other hand, Alfred would have no room to talk! The man played video games! He probably locked himself in his room all day and interacted with virtual people because he was socially inept. What, could he not get a real job? He probably never went to a university either, or at least graduated. Arthur could see it now, the idiot flunking out and turning to video games when no one else was there to comfort him.

"That's right! I'm not the pathetic one here!" Arthur declared. He jumped to his feet to point menacingly at the monitor as if it was Alfred's face. "We'll see who's laughing when I'm through with you!"

Spurred by the determination to prove himself superior, Arthur took up Alfred's request and messaged him through the site.

" _Hello, Alfred. I thank you for watching my video, and Jasper says thank you for the compliment as well. As for your inquiry to collaborate, I am interested. It would be a good opportunity to reach other fanbases. Please respond at your discretion so that we may commence a plan of action. Have a lovely day._ "

Arthur smirked and mashed the 'send message' button with vicious satisfaction.

It only took five seconds for him to utterly regret it.

"What have I done?" Arthur whispered in horror.

* * *

The following hour saw one Arthur Kirkland pacing around his bedroom in a frantic series of swirls.

"Fuck all, just what was I trying to prove?" Arthur berated himself.

He marched again and again around the end of his bed. Mortified, he feared to so much as glance at his computer, yet he found his eyes straying there every minute. Each time, he would stare at the glowing monitor and remember the horrible mistake he made and he'd groan.

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ ," Arthur cursed himself, yanking at his hair. "Why do these awful situations always happen to me? He's going to hate me. I wrote too much, didn't I? I shouldn't have said anything. Christ, why did I say 'lovely day'? I could have said 'have a _nice_ day' like a normal person! Lovely sounds far too intimate. He's definitely going to think I'm some weird stalker. Not that I am! I've only watched some of his videos; a mere handful. No more than twenty, I'd wager! I don't think he's _that_ attractive—! Oh, oh damn it all, why did I mention Jasper? 'Jasper says thank you'? _Really_? Way to sound like a loon, old chap, talking to your cat. God have mercy and strike me down now."

" _Meooow_."

"Shut it, Jasper. This is your fault entirely."

At some point in lamenting his misery, Jasper had returned and settled on the bed near the center. Those slit eyes of his followed Arthur back and forth until his owner couldn't take it anymore. Arthur flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Is it too late to delete my account?" Arthur asked morosely.

Jasper sniffed at Arthur's cheek, then licked him.

Arthur sighed, "Once again, you're no help."

Eventually, Arthur tired of tickling sandpaper against his skin and pushed the cat away. Unperturbed, Jasper curled up by his side, purring.

"Who knows," Arthur said as he rubbed at Jasper's back, "perhaps he'll never see my message. He might get too many as it is; there's a chance mine will get lost in there somewhere. Or he'll change his mind anyway and we'll forget this every happened."

It was tempting, to fall asleep there, let the stress of the day fade into oblivion. That wouldn't do though. It was still early, not even eight in the evening yet. He'd wake up far too early if he slept now. He should get up, do something productive.

With that in mind, Arthur pushed himself off the bed and carried his dinner plate to the kitchen. He went ahead and washed the few dirtied dishes, and soon he returned to his bedroom to consider whether he wanted to take a shower that night or in the morning. Jasper had moved to the computer desk, sniffing around the monitor.

Arthur frowned. "There're no scraps there, if that's what you're after. Go on then, before you knock something over."

Jasper hopped over to his usual place on the bookshelf and turned to watch his owner. Arthur rolled his eyes and glanced over at his computer.

"Wait a tick," Arthur said, squinting his eyes.

Was it just him or. . .did he have a message?

Arthur's heart stuttered. He fell limply into his chair.

"Maybe it's just spam?" Arthur hoped weakly.

One message from AlfredtheHero.

Arthur's head slowly turned to look at Jasper.

"It's _him_ ," he whispered in a high pitch.

" _Meow_?" Jasper responded almost questioningly.

"Alfred, it's _Alfred_ ," Arthur clarified. "He actually read it. And messaged back. Why did he message back? This is not how this is supposed to go! Just—augh, pull yourself together Arthur. You're better than this. So what he messaged you? You're an adult. It was just a business inquiry, nothing more. You can do this."

Despite his motivational words, Arthur stared at the screen doubtfully.

"Ridiculous," Arthur chided before clicking on the message. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he read.

" _Hell yeah! Let's come up with a game plan. It'd be faster tho if we use skype. We can go ahead and talk today if you want. What's your skype? Mine is. . ._ "

Arthur's mind blanked out around there.

"This is actually happening," Arthur murmured.

Tonight. . . Alfred wanted to talk tonight.

"Be right back Jasper, I'm just going to go fall into the ocean now."

* * *

 **I should really be working on finals right now, buuuut….. :)**

 **Sorry for the tease, but at least they've contacted each other now, yeah? I'll get the next chapter out in a couple weeks probably, if you guys want more. Which holy cow, more people are liking this than I thought would. Why are you reading this silly thing? Is it Jasper? You're here just for the cat, aren't you? Just as I suspected…**

 **So, I'm curious, what do you guys think will happen in the next chapter? What would you like to happen between these two dorks? Who knows, it might give me ideas.**


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew felt accomplished.

He'd taken his Calculus mid-term that morning (confident he'd aced it), and he was ahead in all of his other classes. Now, returning to the apartment he shared with his brother, he figured he could spend the afternoon relaxing and not feel guilty.

"I'm home!" Matthew called, closing the door behind him. There was no answer, and seeing how Alfred's door was closed, he most likely had his headphones on, immersed in this week's virtual reality. Best not to bother him, in case he was recording.

Toeing off his shoes, Matthew puzzled over what he could do. He hadn't sat down to watch TV in a while. That sounded pretty good. And maybe something to snack on. His stomach twinged lightly, telling him that a full meal would be too much, but a little something would be most welcome.

 _But what should I get,_ Matthew pondered. He stood in the middle of the little kitchen, eyes glancing over cabinets and counters. Opening the cabinets and fridge to peek inside might help him decide, but Matthew resisted the urge. He already knew what they had. Then again, Alfred could have eaten anything and everything. Come to think of it, when was the last time they went shopping? Should he make a list soon?

It occurred to Matthew that he had been staring at the refrigerator for fifteen minutes, lost in thought and accomplishing nothing. He laughed at himself and checked to see if they had chips. There were Doritos and classic potato chips. He could munch on some of those while he watched TV. But wait, Matthew would bicker at Alfred for doing the same thing. "Chips are for meals, not snacks," he would say every time he'd find his brother gobbling down a bag and leaving crumbs all over the couch cushions. Really, Matthew wouldn't mind him snacking on chips, if it weren't for him being messy and able to eat a whole bag in one sitting.

Ice cream could be good then. They had enough left for one more bowl. And Matthew wouldn't be hypocritical if he ate some of the chips _with_ the ice cream. He could toss some of the potato chips over the chunks of vanilla ice cream, then he could drizzle chocolate syrup over everything!

"Yum," Matthew said, smiling down at his creation. He totted the glass bowl into the living room and sat down to watch TV.

Hardly five minutes had passed when uncertainty twisted his stomach.

What if he did have an assignment and he was just forgetting? Or one of his professors might have posted something. Maybe he should check his email. . .

Alfred's bedroom door slammed open.

"MATTIE, DO I LOOK ATTRACTIVE?"

Matthew may have squeaked in terror. Just a little bit.

"Are you out of your mind?" Matthew demanded. Lucky for Alfred he didn't drop his bowl of ice cream. "What are you thinking, being so loud? We have neighbors."

"Let them hear! We have an emergency of epic proportion!"

"By _we_ I assume you mean _you_. And do you have to stand in front of the TV? I'm trying to watch."

"Bro, this is more important than your stupid cartoon ninjas. Get with the program!"

"Says the guy who has religiously watched every episode of Dora the Explorer," Matthew countered. Unimpressed with the spectacle Alfred put on, Matthew paused his show and resigned himself to his snack.

"Don't rag on Dora, man. She helped me through Spanish classes in high school."

"Mm."

"Hey, what are you eating?" Alfred asked. Classic Alfred, with the attention span of a goldfish.

"Ice cream with potato chips and chocolate syrup."

" _Eugh_ , why'd you get a weird topping like that? At least you left off the pickles this time."

"Oh, I thought I forgot something!"

"Dude, no, you should pair something better with ice cream. Like buttery popcorn! Wait, didn't I come in here for some reason?"

Alfred stood in the middle of the living room, lost in thought much like Matthew had been earlier in the kitchen. Matthew wondered if it would be too rude to get up and walk away before being dragged into whatever crazy plan Alfred had cooked up.

"Oh yeah!" Alfred exclaimed, snapping his fingers in triumph. "I need you to tell me if I look attractive."

". . .what?"

"Am I hot or what? Jeez, it's an easy question."

"Um, I don't think I'm comfortable answering that."

"Why not? Am I pretty? Just tell me I'm pretty."

Alfred leaned over Matthew, putting his face right in front of Matt's so that he could better judge Alfred's prettiness.

Matthew cringed back into the couch. "Could you not get so close to me when asking strange questions?"

"Then look at me. Do my clothes match? How's my hair?"

Matthew sighed and turned back to him. He pushed Alfred away to get a better look at him. Alfred complied and spun this way and that, posing to show off all his angles. A bit overkill, but Matthew took in his outfit regardless. Most days, Alfred wore a t-shirt and sweat pants, shorts, or jeans if he felt like 'dressing up'. "Jeans are not formal," Matthew would remind him. He didn't have to say that now though. Alfred had on a sandy sweater with a white collared shirt peeking out from underneath. If that wasn't enough, he had on khaki pants too.

"Why are you dressed like Dad?" Matthew asked.

Alfred smiled and ran a hand down his front to smooth out any wrinkles. "Spiffy, yeah?"

"You're even wearing a tie," he commented, staring at the dark green tie tucked under the sweater. "Who are you?"

"I'm you, just better in every way."

"Ha ha," Matthew said in a monotone. "No really, do you have a date or something?"

Alfred wiggled in barely contained excitement. "No, it's not really like that. Maybe. I dunno. But guess what happened! I contacted Arthur and he totally agreed to skype me today. Isn't that awesome?"

"Arth—you mean the cat guy?"

"Yes, _Arthur_. I'm gonna talk to _Arthur_."

"Alright, I get it. So why are you so worried about how you look?"

"I'm not worried," Alfred denied. He tried to look indifferent for all of a moment before he succumbed and started gushing, "He's just got a way about him, ya know? Like the way he talks, and what he says, and the way he looks, and he just— _nnnnngggghh_ , I don't want him to think I'm some uneducated hobo."

"Boy, you've got it bad," Matthew sighed. "You look fine Alfred."

"Just fine? That means I'm ugly, right?"

"Alfred, you're not ugly. If I said you were ugly, then I would be saying _I_ look ugly too, seeing as how we're twins, and I'm not ugly. . . I think."

"Yeah, you're right. You do look like me, just a boring, watered down version."

Matthew threw one of the couch pillows at him, shouting, "Would you just leave already and go on your skype date with the cat guy!"

Alfred cackled and retreated to the safety of his bedroom, throwing a, "Wish me luck, bro!" over his shoulder.

"That guy doesn't know when to grow up," Matthew said as he resumed watching anime and eating potato chip ice cream.

* * *

 **Sorry for the short update tease, but the legit stuff will go down in the next chapter. The next chapter is halfway done, so I'll get it up by this weekend.**

 **A surprise Matthew point of view! Not even I was expecting it honestly. I wanted to keep switching between Arthur and Alfred exclusively, but it just wasn't working for Al at this part. Matthew's perspective came far more naturally surprisingly. I had fun with his, how worried and scatterbrained Matthew is. These different perspectives are pretty fun. I hope you guys don't mind. Someone even suggested doing a chapter from Jasper's perspective, which I'm seriously considering for later. But yeah, I want to flesh out Alfred and Arthur's lives a bit more, which includes the people around them.**

 **Also, I still can't believe that it is completely canon that America loves Dora and Canada loves Naruto. These dorks, I can't even. And their weird tastes in food too. It's pretty canon that America likes some ridiculous food. I don't know about Canada, but he seems like the type to throw some weird things together and not even realize it's weird. Oh, and it's also canon that America has insecurity issues, so I wanted to reflect that here.**


	5. Chapter 5

**In which Alfred and Arthur talk about everything except what they're supposed to talk about and force me to write ten pages of pure dork. Ugh.**

* * *

"Breathe in . . . breathe out," Alfred told himself.

He sat at his computer in his bedroom. Amazingly, Arthur had agreed to talk today. Arthur, cat observer extraordinaire, wanted to talk to him. Arthur, the witty British dude, might do a collab video with him.

"Okay, Alfred. Don't fuck this up. You're cool. Just be cool. America and Britain are cool nowadays. He's gonna think you're awesome and heroic. He likes cats, you like cats. It's easy."

Pumped up, Alfred glanced at the clock, waiting for the specified time Arthur had given earlier. While it would be eight o'clock at night for Arthur, it would only be two in the afternoon for Alfred.

"Does that mean I'm about to glimpse into the future?" Alfred pondered. He looked back to the clock after a moment and saw that it was time.

Alfred adjusted his headphones and glasses for the umpteenth time, checking to make sure he hadn't messed up his hair. Then he pressed to call.

The dark screen gave way to blocky fragments at first. Alfred held his breath, watching as the computer finished connecting and the image fully processed into Arthur's face. Arthur sat in a desk chair, looking so stoic that you could mistake him for a picture. He wore a white, long-sleeved button up, and the appearance of neatness would be complete were it not for his ever ruffled blond hair. Arthur's thick brows became heavier over his narrowed gaze. Green eyes, looking a bit downward from the camera, flicked from left to right.

"Hello?" Arthur's crisp accent melted into his ears, voice warm with a hint of tentativeness.

Alfred realized that he had been staring like an idiot.

Oops.

"Uh, yeah! Hey, s'up?" Alfred laughed, hating that his voice came out too high and too nervous. He swallowed, willing himself to regain the control he had just mustered up before the call.

"Oh, good," Arthur breathed out. "I thought it froze up. Can you hear me well enough?"

"Read ya loud and clear!" Alfred beamed, throwing two thumbs up. Immediately after, he felt stupid for the childish gesture. Thankfully though, Arthur's lips tugged up in a smile.

"I'm glad." Arthur nodded, looking down at his desk for a second. Then he cleared his throat, clasped his hands in front of himself, and said, "It's nice to meet you, Alfred."

"You too, Arthur," Alfred returned. His name, spoken in that rich accent, bounced around inside his head over and over, and he couldn't get past the inner mantra of, _Oh my god, I'm actually talking to him_.

"Right then," he responded, nodding again. "I have to say, I certainly wasn't expecting this to happen today."

"Good unexpected or bad?" Alfred asked. What if Arthur thought he was annoying and was just being polite?

"Good of course, good," Arthur hurried to assure him. "I don't communicate much with the YouTube community, you see. . . Actually, I've never done a collaborative video before, and I have to wonder why you approached me of all people."

"You? Why not you? You're really cool," Alfred blurted.

Arthur glanced away from the computer altogether. "That's. . . Thank you, but you must have realized that I'm not a gamer. I deal primarily with vlogs. Isn't there someone better suited for this?"

"Well I play with my brother sometimes. And there's some Let's Players that I team up with a lot, like Gilbert and Kiku. But they do other things than just gaming, ya know? Like Kiku does anime reviews too, and Gil . . . well, Gil does anything he feels like, from music remixes to public pranking."

"And you?"

"Me?"

"Do you do anything else? Like music and such?" Arthur asked as he stared intently towards the camera.

Alfred gave a sheepish half-smile. "Nah, I'm not much of a music person. I mean, I have an acoustic guitar and I can play a mean harmonica, but I've heard people say that I sound like a dying goat when I try to sing."

Arthur covered his mouth, sounding like he was nearly choking.

"What? You okay?" Alfred asked. Had he said something weird?

"Sorry," he apologized. Alfred got the feeling that he was amused. "Surely you can't be that bad."

"Well _I_ don't think I'm bad. Matt says I'm tone deaf though. Oh, he's my brother. But yeah, I'll stick to games. I bet you would be great at singing though."

"How do you figure?"

"You've got a nice voice," Alfred said, not realizing his smile and tone were too fond.

Arthur's eyes widened and any fidgeting he had been doing before ceased. If Alfred had to describe his expression, it would be that of someone presented with a giant birthday cake after spending all day thinking that everyone forgot about him. That or like he stepped on a Lego. Alfred couldn't decide which, only that it made him fiddle with his fingers restlessly.

"I—I see," Arthur said. He breathed deeply through his nose and exhaled out of his mouth, reminding Alfred of how he himself paced his breathing before making this call. Of course, Arthur probably wasn't doing it to relax. He seemed like such a collected person, confident in everything he did. "I believe we're getting off topic here. Shouldn't we be discussing our collaboration?"

"Oh yeah, sure. I was thinking it didn't matter much about what we do. What's important is personality. So even if you don't game much, it'll still be fun."

"You want to play video games together? I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't even own a console or anything like that."

"No Playstation? X-box? Nintendo? PC?"

"Let's just say that those sound vaguely familiar."

"Ah, okay. That's okay," Alfred insisted, in case Arthur was embarrassed. Alfred knew that games weren't everyone's way of life. They should be, but he wouldn't force Arthur to do something so out of his comfort zone.

Alfred thrummed his fingers lightly against the keyboard in thought. "There's loads of other things we could do. Maybe something more up your alley. You like cats, I like cats. We could vlog about cats!"

". . .cats?"

"Yeah! You've got Jasper. I could have a cat and vlog too."

Arthur's face pinched, incredulous. "Do . . . pardon me, but do you even have a cat?"

"Nah, but I'm sure I could borrow the neighbor's cat or something when they're not looking."

"Alfred, that's not borrowing. That's catnapping."

"But if they don't find out and I put it right back. . ."

" _Alfred!_ You are not taking the neighbor's cat and that's final!" Arthur hissed, aghast that Alfred would even suggest such a thing. Who knew riling him up would make him look cuter?

Alfred laughed, "Dude, I was just joking. No big deal. We'll do something else."

"Please and thank you," Arthur agreed, leaning back tiredly. He turned his head to look at something beside the computer, something out of view. "Why are you looking at me like that for?"

"What?" Alfred asked tensely. Had Arthur noticed that he was staring a little too much?

Arthur blinked and realized himself. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean you. I was talking to Jasper."

Alfred almost yanked the cord of his headphones out, jerking forward to see any sign of the kitty. "Is Jasper there? Can he hear me?"

Arthur scowled. Wait no, not scowled. More like a put-out frown tugged down his features. "Yes, he's here. He likes to laze about on my bookshelf while I'm at my computer. And yes, he can hear you. With the way he's looking at me, I dare say he knows we're talking about him."

"Hiiiiii Jasper!"

A tiny meow answered him.

"Dude," Alfred whispered excitedly. "He's talking cat to me."

Arthur snorted. "He tends to do that. A lot." Although he wasn't smiling, there was a touch of affection in his gaze as Arthur watched his pet. His eyes shifted, as if following movement towards the monitor, and soon a brush of fur invaded the camera view, followed by curious sniffing.

"Nosy bugger," Arthur murmured without any real malice. He reached up to pull Jasper away, and even if the cat meowed in protest, he let himself be tucked into his owner's lap. Jasper's round little front paws perched on the desk's surface while large eyes, a similar green to Arthur's actually, watched Alfred curiously.

"Aww, he's precious," Alfred cooed. He leaned forward, elbows propped up and palms pressed against his cheeks, wearing the dorkiest grin ever. "What's it like having the most adorable cat in the world?"

Arthur deadpanned. "Terrifying."

"Don't worry Jasper. I see right through your owner."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're implying." Arthur sniffed dismissively. However, the way he tickled at Jasper's folded ears spoke volumes.

"I'd love to have a cat," Alfred admitted. "Or a dog."

"Why don't you get one then?"

He shook his head. "Matthew doesn't want to. Said something about wanting to wait until after he graduates. I mean, I guess it makes sense, since he's graduating next year and we might be moving depending on whether he wants to go to graduate school or whatnot. It'd be pretty depressing if we got a pet and then couldn't find a place that allowed pets."

"That's smart. Your brother lives with you then?"

"Yep. Neither of us could really imagine living without the other, ya know? Don't get me wrong, we get on each other's nerves all the time, but we've always been together. Mattie's my best friend."

Arthur smiled sweetly as he absently stroked Jasper's neck. "That's wonderful."

"What about you? You got siblings you're close to?"

His smile dropped like it was hot. "I have four brothers and they're all barmy."

Alfred barked out a laugh. "Oh c'mon."

"Well, Peter isn't that bad," he amended. "He's the youngest. The others are older than me and never let me forget it."

"Oh I know, right? Matt's like two minutes older and he always reminds me."

"What's his major?" Arthur asked quickly, jumping at the opportunity to keep the subject off of him.

"Matt? He does wildlife science. It's like ecology and conservation stuff. Matt's always loved animals and whatnot. Used to bring home strays all the time. He brought home a bear cub one time."

"You're joking."

"I'm for real! We were about ten years old. Matt found it wandering out by the road and thought it was a dog. Dad pretty much had a panic attack and hid in the bathroom. Mom kinda wanted to keep it."

"How the hell do you mistake a bear for a dog?"

"Like I said, we were ten. And the cub wasn't that big. Small enough for Matt to carry around. Mom took pictures."

"At least he grew out of the habit."

"Not really. We went to a zoo last week and security caught him in the polar bear exhibit trying to free them."

"Good God!"

"Okay, he didn't really do that, but he thought about doing it, and it's the thought that counts."

" _Alfred!_ Bleeding hell!"

Alfred laughed so hard that his body bent over to the side. There was just something hilarious about the way the Brit screamed his name like that. He couldn't help but tease. "S-sorry."

"Sod off, you're still laughing!"

"I can't help it. You should have seen your face!"

"What about my face?"

"Your eyes were buggin' out so bad, oh my god dude."

"I should hang up on your sorry arse!"

Alfred sobered up nice and fast. He held his hands up, palms together and beseeching. "N-no wait! Don't go! I'm sorry, really!"

"I'm so sure," Arthur mumbled and Alfred barely caught something along the lines of, _taking the piss out of me_ , whatever that meant. Jasper, grouchy from all the yelling, pawed at his owner until the man let him down. When Arthur sat back up, he frowned at the camera. "Was your other story fabricated as well?"

"No, that one was legit, I swear. But Mattie really did come up with this master plan to free the polar bears. It was funny, but he never goes through with half the stuff he says."

"That sounds like a blessing, from what I hear." Arthur still frowned, but at least he wasn't threatening to hang up anymore. That scared the crap out of Alfred for a minute there. He didn't realize how into the conversation he was getting, forgetting that this was the first time he and Arthur were talking. He needed to be more careful.

With the reminder pressing on his mind, apprehension settled in his muscles once more, making Alfred twitch and bounce his leg up and down. What should he say now? Things had been going so well!

"What about you?" Arthur asked. He sat arms crossed against his chest. "Do you go to the same college as your brother?"

Alfred could have wept in gratitude for Arthur taking the next step for him. "No, I don't. I mean, I used to, but I don't anymore. I went for three semesters and dropped out. But it's not because I'm not smart or anything!"

"I didn't say you weren't," Arthur replied, one bushy brow arched.

"Oh . . ." Well that was awkward. Might as well bang his head against the keyboard, end things now. "Um, I guess I'm used to people assuming that. I was actually rockin' straight A's. Well, in everything but English. I sucked balls in that."

"You weren't an English major then, I take it?"

"Nah, I'll stay with science and math. Those make more sense. I never did decide on a major though. For a while I thought about doing something like Matthew. But what I really wanted to do was go into something engineering related."

"That's . . . I would have never guessed that of you."

"Really? What do I look like I'd be in though?"

For some reason, Arthur became flustered. He glanced away, mouth opening and closing as he tried to answer. "Well, that is, I suppose business perhaps?"

Alfred smirked and nudged the rim of his glasses. "It's the glasses, isn't it?"

And when that flustered Arthur even further, Alfred was even more confused. Arthur sounded like he was strangling, face reddening powerful enough that Alfred could see visibly through the screen.

"Don't sweat it dude," Alfred laughed, not knowing how else to react to the way Arthur was still reeling. "Business isn't a bad guess. Seems boring to me though. I'll stick with science."

"R-right."

"Ya know, I wanted to work at NASA one day."

"NASA?" Arthur repeated, eyes bright and appraising.

"Yeah." Alfred nodded, a smile seeping into his voice. "It was the big dream, ever since I was little and my parents gave me a telescope one year for my birthday. I'd look up at the stars and think about building rockets and helping explore the reaches of the solar system and beyond."

"So why did you give that up?" Arthur asked, voice quiet in Alfred's ear. At some point, the atmosphere had grown hushed and close. "You sound passionate about it."

"In a way, I didn't give it up," Alfred said. He opened his mouth again but lost the will and air to continue.

Sensing something amiss, Arthur tilted forward and prompted, "How so?"

Alfred really hoped he wasn't blushing. That would be humiliating. As it was, he took care to pace his words. Clearing his throat, he said, "I dunno. I don't want you to laugh at me."

"What, like you did at me earlier?" Arthur teased lightly.

Alfred flashed a grin. "C'mon, that was totally different dude. This is kinda personal."

"If that's the case, then . . ." Arthur paused to deliberate a moment before he went on resolutely. "You can tell me, if you wish. I promise not to laugh."

Alfred appreciated it. He nodded slowly and stared down at his keyboard. It'd be easier to talk if he wasn't looking directly at Arthur. Which it made him spazz out that he was actually talking about this with Arthur. Arthur did say that he didn't have to talk about it. Alfred didn't have to, yet he wanted to.

Steeling himself, Alfred began, "I realized that you don't have to build rockets to visit places out of this world. All you need is a video game. Sure, any entertainment avenue can do, like movies and books. But video games are so . . . immersive. And in ways that movies and books can't achieve. It's the ultimate form of escapism, enabling the player to make their own decisions to really become part of that world. More than that though, you get to experience _so many things_ that you'd otherwise never get to be a part of. You bond with the characters and you go on adventures together, and you can fight and keep moving forward. And even if you lose, you'll always have a second chance.

"People like to rag on games a lot, ya know? Saying they're a waste of time, because it's not real, but that's not true at all. They're real because _real_ people made them. Real people took the time and effort to make this, and they put their dreams and souls into making these beautiful worlds filled with incredible characters and storylines that can move you and teach you. It's amazing, what people can create.

"It's one of the reasons why I started my channel. I wanted to share my experiences with other people, and a lot of people liked my videos. A lot of them would say that I was funny or entertaining, but the comments that really got to me were the ones that said, 'Thanks for making this. I was having a bad day but this cheered me up.' It blows my mind to think that, just because I posted a video, I was able to make a difference in someone's life. And video games helped me do that, to reach people. I started getting big on YouTube, and between that and streaming on Twitch, the pay's decent. So I got to thinking, 'Why not stick with this? If I'm happy and it makes other people happy too, then why not?'"

Despite Alfred's earlier fear, Arthur didn't laugh in the slightest. He appeared solemn and considerate, voice nearly touched when he responded, "I know what you mean. I never created my channel for that purpose, nor do I have as many subscribers as you, yet I can't deny that I feel pride whenever I get those sorts of comments."

"I know, right? Makes me feel like hot cocoa inside, all warm and tingly. Makes me glad I posted that first video years ago."

"I've never thought of video games as an altruistic tool. And here you are, showing that your name as 'the hero' isn't some egotistical title."

"Yep! That's me," Alfred grinned and patted his chest. Contrary to his happy demeanor, a sharp twinge of guilt twisted his gut. There were far more self-serving reasons for why he became a YouTuber and he knew it. Arthur didn't have to know that. He'd look at Alfred and call him pathetic.

An edge of bitterness must have filtered through, either in the antsy avoidance of his gaze or brittle smile. Regardless, Arthur waited in wariness until he had to ask, "Is something the matter?"

Alfred hated lying. In fact, he royally sucked at it. If he didn't want to say something, he'd do everything in his power to jump to a different topic, anything to distract others.

"Oh me? Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking about otters. Did you know they hold hands with each other when they sleep to keep from floating away? Pretty sweet, am I right?"

"That's nice and all, but are you sure you were thinking about otters just now?"

When Alfred couldn't sidestep his issues, he blanked out. He couldn't understand how people could straight-faced say, "Yes, I was thinking about otters," when the truth is they're not thinking about otters. Didn't it leave their tongues sour? It was wrong, to lie about otters like that.

"Um . . . yes?" Alfred tried, he really tried.

"You don't sound that confident," he mused. Alfred wanted to muster up the bravado he used when speaking to his thousands of viewers during video game sessions. But Alfred made the mistake of glancing up and, damn it, Arthur was looking at him with the judging eyes of the almighty, and God himself was about to descend from high Heaven to reprimand him for his lying, sinful ways, and for some reason God sounded a lot like a lecturing Matthew in his mind.

Alfred practically vomited out the words, "I kinda sorta wasn't being completely truthful maybe."

If Arthur was angry, he didn't show it. He just glanced once to the side in a thrown way, as if an explanation was at the right of the computer monitor. "About what exactly?"

Alfred plucked his glasses off and cleaned them on the hem of his sweater, a nervous habit. Why was he overreacting and making such a big deal over this out of nowhere? Maybe because this was Arthur and conversation felt natural despite this being their first real interaction. It made Alfred open up about his dreams earlier, and that turned out fine and all. This on the other hand was a bit too close to home.

"About my channel," Alfred confessed. "Everything I said was true though! I just . . . I was just thinking how I started my channel, but it was because of more reasons than that."

"What would that be?" Arthur looked genuinely curious, as if from their short time talking together he had become invested in what Alfred had to say.

 _When did things start getting so personal_ , he wondered. They were supposed to be deciding on their collaboration, not this. Talk about way off track.

"It's personal," Alfred said finally. His arms were crossed about his desk and he sat hunched over them. "More than what I was talking about earlier. It's not really something I feel comfortable talking about."

"Oh, is that all then?" Arthur blinked in surprise. "That's fine, Alfred. You're not obligated to tell me anything."

"I . . . I'm not?" Alfred said as if this were news to him. He was just taken aback how chill the Brit was being.

Startled, Arthur laughed sincerely. "Heavens no, lad. I didn't come into this thinking that you would disclose all of your secrets to me. Everyone has something they'd rather not talk about. There's no shame in it. And if anyone expects otherwise, tell them to kindly piss off."

Alfred suddenly felt infinitely better. Grinning more stress-free this time, Alfred said, "Thanks Arthur. You're really cool, ya know that?"

"Of course I am," Arthur smirked, poised and buoyant in his own self-assurance.

Alfred chuckled, unable to help feeling giddy. "Enough about me. I want to hear more about you."

Arthur froze. "Er, what about me?"

"What do you do when you're not vlogging your cat?" The man had to do something. Alfred could see him as the ultimate librarian, sitting on a thrown of books and acting as gatekeeper to the written realms. Or dude, something off the wall like a skydiving instructor! He could see Arthur sailing through the air, his trusty feline strapped to his torso, and descending with a parachute the shape of Jasper's face.

"You mean what do I do for a living?"

"Yeah, that."

Arthur bit his lip and looked away. As Arthur took longer than normal to answer, it occurred to Alfred that his question might be intrusive. What if Arthur was a legit international spy, like James Bond? If he told Alfred, he might have to kill him, and Alfred would rather have a pulse than not.

"Dude, if it's too personal, you don't have to. I get it."

"That's not exactly . . ." Arthur began, then ended up closing his eyes with a sigh. "It's hard to explain, is all. Not to mention that you'll no doubt find it dull."

"Nah, man. If it's about you, I'm sure it's awesome." It didn't matter if Arthur said he worked as a store clerk. The mere fact that this was Arthur would make it interesting.

The utter confidence in Alfred's offhanded statement got to Arthur. He frowned in a way that spoke more of embarrassment than discontent. "You have far too much faith in me. But if you must know, I'm a copyeditor."

"Ooooooooooh."

". . ."

". . ."

"You have no idea what that is, do you?"

"Not a clue."

Arthur's lips mouth quirked up. "Essentially, I'm employed through a publishing company. Before a work is published, it goes through someone like me for editing. I check for errors, consistency, accuracy, whether it's easy to follow, issues in style or structure—the lot of it."

"Like a glorified spellcheck?"

"That's . . . one way of putting it," Arthur conceded, furrowing his brow. "As I said, it's more than simple spellchecking. Depending on budget and time constraints, material goes through the process a number of times until it can ultimately be proofread and then published."

"Soooo, you're basically the last line of defense to keep people from screwing up."

Arthur liked this much better than the spellcheck comparison. "I suppose I am. It's rewarding, to polish pieces and make them shine."

"Dude," Alfred said, voice intense. "You're the little background elf that comes in at night while everyone's sleeping to clean up their messes and finish their work. That's kickass!"

"I'm a brownie now, am I?"

Wait what?

Alfred opened and closed his mouth once, perplexed about where that had come from.

". . .Because you're sweet?" Alfred ventured. British people sure did have some weird analogies.

Now it was Arthur's turn to be confused. "I'm like a brownie, or so you said."

"Uhhh, you don't look that chocolatey or edible to me. Well, you are edible, but cannibalism is still illegal, so—"

"Alfred, you muppet, I meant the hobgoblin creature in folklore that comes out at night and performs chores around the house. Not the chocolatey desert."

"Oh. Haha! I knew that." While Alfred laughed, he questioned as to why Arthur would call him a muppet. Was he a fan of _The Muppets_?

Arthur covered his face in disappointment. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Changing subject!" Alfred declared, finger pointing high. "I want to ask you something."

Arthur blew out a breath from behind his hand. "No need for preludes. Get on with it then."

"So, okay, this may be hypocritical of me, but I was wondering why you started your channel."

Arthur's hand shifted down to reveal thoughtful shades of jade. He shrugged. "It's not really a big deal. I didn't have much of a reason in the first place."

"The videos were posted somehow."

"Fair enough," Arthur agreed. He sat back and glanced to the side, considering. Alfred thought he might be looking at Jasper. "If I had to pinpoint a catalyst, it would be my brother, Rhys."

"One of the older ones?"

"Indeed. It was around . . . four years ago when I first adopted Jasper as a kitten. You should have seen him; he was the scruffiest little thing and he would ride around in my jacket pocket or on my shoulder."

"Like a parrot?" Alfred perked up, starry eyed. Arthur was a pirate, confirmed.

"Much like one, yes. He doesn't do it often anymore. That aside, I hadn't had him too long before Rhys wanted me to send a video of him. I did, but while I was recording, I was talking to Jasper. I would do that a few times and send the videos to Rhys and he told me the world needed to see."

"What kind of stuff were you saying?"

"The first time? I believe I was chastising Jasper for attempting to consume a grasshopper. I swear, he used to try to eat everything when he was younger. Now he just brings me what he catches and dumps it on me while I'm sleeping as if I'm expected to be happy. He thinks it's amusing."

"He does it because he loves you."

"He has a bothersome way of showing it." Arthur rolled his eyes. He looked off to the side and said, "You hear that, Jasper? Bothersome."

" _Mew?_ "

"Bothersome, bothersome, bothersome," Arthur chanted at his cat, but to Alfred's ears it sounded like more of a coo. It was endearing, to hear how Arthur spoke of his pet when his true intentions would always seep through. It was a commentary that Alfred could listen to for days and not tire of.

"That's it!" Alfred shouted.

Arthur snapped his head around from where he was in the middle of giving Jasper scratchies. "What? What's it?"

"Why don't you just do commentary for our collab? You're good at that, so why not sit in for one of my gaming sessions?"

"What does that entail exactly?"

"I'll play one of the games I've been doing recently, and while I record, I'll have you in the call and you can see what I'm doing and can commentate and talk to me."

"That wouldn't be boring?"

"'Course not! Lots of people do that, and I've done it lots of times before. When I can't convince Matt to play, he'll sometimes sit in for recordings." Alternatively, he could say that when games became too scary, he would plead with Matthew to join him, but not because Alfred was scared! He just needed to have someone see how heroic and unscared he was.

"Alright, that sounds fine."

"Great! If we think of something else to do, we can save that for another time."

"A-another time?" Arthur stammered at the idea that they would do more collabs down the line.

Alfred beamed.

* * *

 **Be honest, was this interesting? 'Cause I have a bad habit of writing too much when I feel like I should be able to accomplish more with less. They talked too much. But I also feel like some may appreciate the in-depthness of their conversation rather than me glossing over with summary parts. Tell me what you think.**

 **Btw, Rhys is the name I give Wales, in case you were wondering. Not that I think he's going to ever show up in person. I do however believe that Arthur should have more than Jasper to talk to in his life. He needs someone to go gossip to about Alfred. . . . . Berwald. I'll give him Berwald.**

 **"** **And he's so handsome, and he's actually a nice person! What should I do, Berwald?"**

 **"** **Mm. Make 'em your wife."**

 **From across the ocean blue, Alfred sneezes and gets the strangest urge to binge watch** ** _Say Yes to the Dress_** **.**


	6. Chapter 6

**In which an author's note joke is taken too far and I am not even sorry.**

* * *

The day following Arthur's first chat with Alfred, Arthur found himself in the exceptionally awkward position of having coffee with his neighbor, Berwald Oxenstierna.

"Here ya go," Berwald rumbled. Along with the coffee, Berwald sat before him a heavenly smelling slice of almond-glazed coffee cake.

"Thank you," Arthur stammered quickly. He didn't dare tell the man that he preferred anything tea related over coffee any day, not while he was a guest in Berwald's house.

Berwald nodded, grunting in satisfaction, and with his host duties tended to, he sat down across the table. Arthur looked down into his mug, gentle swirls of steam rising up from the pitch black liquid.

There were many things questionable about this situation, more even than Arthur forcing himself to settle with the wrong kind of caffeinated beverage. Berwald, a viking of a man from Sweden, had one of those faces that was hard to say no to, unless you wanted to risk bodily harm. It's not that Arthur presumed the man to be violent. In fact, Arthur hardly knew him aside from living next to him the past few years. Every now and then, Arthur caught glimpses of Berwald coming and going, and there were the scant amount of times that they engaged in conversation with one another. Berwald, with his stony expression and penetrating teal-hued eyes, came off as perpetually brooding and bothered by anyone who would approach him. That's why Arthur had been cautious about giving the Swede a wide berth of space.

That's also why Arthur was rather confounded about as to how he came to be inside Berwald's house, being treated to coffee and cake. Then again, Arthur did know how. What he couldn't comprehend was why. Why did Berwald invite him over after witnessing Arthur's attempt to break into someone's house?

Perhaps this called for an explanation.

The true scoundrel of this tale was a cat named Jasper. The Scottish Fold came and went from Arthur's house, courtesy of a cat door. He had the roam of the yard and hardly strayed beyond the perimeter, as far as his owner was aware. If Arthur had his next meal ready, the man could stick his head out the door and call out to him, and the feline would trot in swiftly with a petulant meow that might as well say, "It's about time."

Earlier that day, Arthur called for Jasper, not thinking anything of it when the cat didn't immediately waltz in. As the minutes passed though, and Arthur called again with no response, he began to worry.

Needing to vent, Arthur switched on his camera and vlogged himself.

"It has been nearly fifteen minutes and there have been no signs of Jasper," Arthur confided while he walked around his kitchen. He kept glancing out the window as if he would catch a glimpse of his wayward cat. "I've called for him and looked about the yard, yet there is no trace. He's not one to skip out on meals. I suspect foul play is involved."

By that, Arthur wasn't sure if he meant Jasper was up to something or if something had gone horribly wrong and he was injured or taken by some heinous cat napper.

"This calls for an investigation," Arthur told the camera.

First Arthur checked around the house. He looked under the bed, in the closet, the bathtub, the window seat in the dining room, the kitchen cupboards, and any other of Jasper's favorite hiding places.

Next, Arthur searched the yard. He checked the bushes, the flowerbeds, the trees, under the car, in the car, and he even held his breath as he looked out into the street for signs of a crumpled pile of fur.

"Nothing," Arthur told the camera, shaking his head and trudging inside. "Absolutely nothing. No news is good news, as they say, but I don't like this at all."

Where had his little pussycat gone?

More minutes passed. Arthur spent the time pacing the kitchen, brooding over whether or not to broaden the search.

That's when he happened to glance out the window, the one that looked towards his neighbor's house, and what he saw didn't register in his mind because of the sheer absurdity of it all.

There was Jasper, but rather than being outside, he was perched behind the glass of his neighbor's window.

Jasper was inside his neighbor's house.

"Bollocks," Arthur uttered in disbelief.

Now you must be thinking that Jasper was in Berwald's house. This is not the case, as Arthur had another neighbor. A far more pernicious and intolerable neighbor. A neighbor of nightmare and revulsion. For you see this neighbor . . . was _French_.

Arthur's hatred for the French began in secondary school with a boy by the name of Francis Bonnefoy. Their first exchange of words had been insults, Francis remarking on the size of Arthur's brows and Arthur lambasting Francis's snarky accent. That day ended in a fist fight and they had been rivals ever since.

Upon graduating, Arthur thought he would never again see Francis Bonnefoy. However, years later, in fate's most massive cockup of the century, the couple next door happened to move out and that very same cheesy monkey from his school days took their place.

And now Jasper was in that man's house.

"You miserable, sorry, wretched, no good fiendish, obnoxious—" Arthur cursed on, not knowing whether he was talking about his cat or the Frenchman. Either way, Arthur stormed out of his house on a mission.

The irate Brit marched across the grass and towards the window, whipping out his camera to film the disaster of the day.

"Look who I found in my _neighbor's_ house," Arthur seethed, approaching the window. Jasper watched calmly from the window sill, sitting by a decorative vase and at least twenty centimeters above Arthur's head.

"How in fuck's name did you get in there? Are you off your trolley?" Arthur demanded.

Jasper meowed silently and pawed at the window.

"Don't give me that look," Arthur said. "You can't claim that Francis catnapped you, because his sorry arse isn't even here. And I would know because I searched all over the sodding place for you."

This was truth; Francis's car was gone. Arthur didn't care one bit where the man had gone. What mattered was when he came back to find Arthur's cat in his house. Arthur could perfectly imagine what he would say and found himself imitating Francis with a purposely atrocious French accent.

"Looks like even your cat has become weary of you. Is there anyone who can tolerate your prickly presence? Oh hon hon hon— Shut up Francis!"

" _Mew_ ," came a muffled chirp.

"You too Jasper! This is your fault! You just had to go nosing around in places where you don't belong! Or is this an act of rebellion? Are you siding with the French now? You're in league with him, aren't you?"

In answer, Jasper brushed against the glass, much like he would against Arthur's leg when he wanted attention. That would have been fine and all, had the vase not been in the way and crashed to the floor. And Arthur _knew_ that it crashed from the shattering sound that startled even the cat.

"Gordon Bennet, what did you _DO?!_ " Arthur screeched.

This could not be happening. His cat could not be in his archrival's house, destroying objects that were possibly dusty heirlooms from some dead aunt. Normally, Arthur wouldn't mind causing Francis trouble. But if Francis came home now and saw the broken vase? Who knew how much that vase costed? That could be ten thousand pounds for all Arthur knew!

Arthur couldn't let that happen. He had to get Jasper, get the vase, and fix this somehow, or at the very least he needed to hide the evidence. Oh what was that Francis? Your special vase went missing? Haven't the foggiest clue how that happened. The best of British to you, old chap.

"Right, right," Arthur said, breathing heavily and running a hand through his hair. "Just need to . . . get in somehow. If my bloody cat can do it, so can I."

That would turn out to no avail. The doors were locked up nice and tight, and though Arthur may have been a bit of a delinquent in his youth, he had no idea how to pick a lock. No amount of pulling would magically unlock it, and staring at the thick, maroon wood in pathetic desperation had no affect either. Furthermore, the windows wouldn't be opening anytime soon. All except one.

"This is the only unlocked one that I can reach," Arthur muttered.

He stared at the same window that Jasper lounged in before. The cat remained there, taunting him. Arthur left briefly to grab a wooden stool from his kitchen. If he wanted to reach the window and have enough leverage to open it, Arthur needed the extra height.

"Right then, look away children," Arthur told the camera. In reality he just turned the device off and sat it on the ground. No need to have documented proof of his crime—uh, not crime. No, there was nothing criminal about retrieving his cat. Breaking and entering doesn't count if they're French.

Arthur pressed his hands against the white, painted wood frame and shoved upwards. The house was one of the older sort, like Arthur's, and features were bound to run less smoothly as they aged. As it was, Arthur had to put all of his strength into pushing. It slid haltingly, creating the most awful, loud _thunking_ noises.

"Come on, you piece of shite," Arthur grunted, but the window refused halfway up.

Giving up, Arthur let go and hunched to catch his breath. Jasper meowed directly into his face.

"Come here, pesky beast." He pulled Jasper through and stepped off the stool. The cat, growling at the sudden grab, writhed until he was let down.

"Away with you," Arthur shooed and Jasper scurried off towards the proper house.

With that done, Arthur stood there staring at the half-opened window in consideration.

"Just how did he get in there?"

He could puzzle over it later. Now he had to get inside and take the broken vase before Francis returned. The window was open well enough, and Arthur reasoned that he had a slim enough build to shimmy his way in. He could do this.

Five minutes later, he never regretted a decision more in his life.

"So this is how my life ends," Arthur mused morosely.

He was stuck.

Half his body in, half of it out, and Arthur wedged by the window frame about the waist.

"How humiliating."

He'd already twisted this way and that in a bout of fury. Now, certain that his hips were as sore as his ego, he slumped in defeat.

What a way to go. Arse in the air and stuck in the window of a Frenchman's house. All he needed now was for someone to find him in this position and he could promptly die of mortification.

"What're you doin'?"

 _Oh God, why?_

Arthur stiffened, hyper aware of the way he hung awkwardly and how someone stood somewhere by him. It made matters worse that he couldn't even turn to see who had come to laugh at him.

"Sorry?" Arthur asked. He knew that wasn't Francis's voice, but what was worse, being found by a stranger or Francis?

. . . Francis. Yeah, Francis.

"What're you doin' to Francis's house?" the deep voice asked.

"Oh—oh, Berwald? Is that you?"

"Mm."

Arthur forced out a laugh. "Oh, fancy meeting you here."

What was he saying? It's not like they were running into each other at the market. Arthur was stuck in a window and Berwald was talking to his bum.

 _Kill me now._

* * *

Jasper peered around the back porch step, watching his master's blundering predicament from a safe distance. Humans were clunky creatures, unable to fit through small spaces that the superior feline species laughed at. He should have known better. Jasper thought his human to be slightly smarter than the rest of his kind, if only by association to Jasper himself.

He dug his claws into the dirt, meowing to himself in agitation. "You ruined my reconnaissance mission, you twit. We could have had eyes on the inside! But _nooo_ , you want to blame me for being the only one around who takes the initiative. Imbecile. It's your own fault, getting caught."

And caught he was. Not only by the window, but by the large bear-like man who lived next door. He assisted Jasper's master out of the hole in the wall, and afterwards, they faced off against each other, their lips moving in what Jasper theorized to be growls of aggression.

"Bite his leg!" Jasper cheered at his human. In most fights, it would be more prudent to go for the eyes first, to render the opponent blind; however, the bear human had some sort of protective gear on his face. His master would have to make do with the legs. If he clawed and kicked at them enough, the bear man couldn't run.

Instead of getting rough, the humans came to some sort of agreement and the bear man led Jasper's human to the house next door. This wasn't just a dispute over territory anymore. This was a hostage situation!

"Don't just let him take you without a fight! Assert your dominance!" Jasper yowled, but alas, it was too late. His human disappeared inside and Jasper was left alone.

"What a disappointment," Jasper sighed. He knew that his human was smaller than the bear man, but that shouldn't have stopped him! He could have at least hissed at the brute, used intimidation tactics.

"Do humans have no pride?" Jasper wondered. "What a pity. Now I suppose I should go rescue him. It wouldn't do to let him die. He does provide me food."

Jasper purred in approval, stretched out his limbs, and arched his back languidly. Then he trotted up the steps to go inside his master's home.

Jasper would rescue his human eventually. But first, he was fairly certain it was lunch time, and food doesn't eat itself.

* * *

 **You guys, I was kidding about adding Berwald. You weren't supposed to make me want to actually do it! But I did have fun with this, and we even got Jasper's point of view! His perspective is like Arthur's, just ten times more pretentious. I love it.**

 **Something interesting about this chapter, other than the fact that Berwald wasn't supposed to be in it. Francis was going to be in it, and he was even going to have a cute poodle named Gigi. But sadly, they didn't make the cut. I had a need for Swede.**

 **Also, this story already has over a 100 favs? I can't even. Thank you guys, and a BIG THANK YOU to all of you who have reviewed and given me encouragement. Your kind words motivate me and seriously make me want to cry from happiness. I love you guys.**

 **And a SUPER BIG THANK YOU to Asky030 for translating this story for Chinese readers! Please tell them I said hi and that I love them.**


	7. Chapter 7

**In which Berwald is a precious cinnamon roll, too good for this world.**

* * *

After Berwald helped free him, Arthur entertained a fleeting thought to turn tail and run for his life. But he was a gentleman (and he wouldn't doubt that Berwald, with his mighty stature, would outrun him in any race). Arthur would face his end with dignity. Who knows, Berwald could be merciful and simply hand him over to the cops. Handcuffs sounded safer than Berwald's icy stare.

"Want to come over for some coffee?"

And that was it. No moral driven threats or lectures. No promise to tell Francis or call the authorities. No more questions other than an inquiry for coffee.

Arthur gulped and lied, "That sounds lovely."

Thus bringing him to this present situation of coffee and cake in the Swede's home. Arthur surreptitiously peeked around the room, noting the cozy, cream floral wallpaper, a painting of an apple orchard, and an open-faced, brown cupboard exhibiting rows of multicolored glass figurines.

"I made 'em."

Arthur inhaled in surprise and yanked his sights back to his host. "Sorry?"

"I made 'em," Berwald repeated, nodding his head towards the pretty display. "I like workin' with glass. Wood too."

"Oh? They're quite marvelous," Arthur said, not lying this time. The delicate pieces—forming slender-necked vases, bowls, or animals like birds—composed an array of burnt ambers and swirling blues. They really were impressive. Arthur wouldn't believe this large man in front of him had crafted art so delicate, had he not been told from the horse's mouth.

Berwald hummed in thanks.

Arthur tapped nervously at the mug between his hands. He remembered the broken vase, how it had laid in black and gold pieces across the floor, so close to his face. If he hadn't have gotten stuck on that blasted window. . .

There were more pressing matters to deal with at the moment, like why Berwald had invited him over of all things. What would prompt the bespectacled man to do such a thing? Well, what does one expect when you invite them over for coffee?

Wait. . . . This wasn't a . . .

"This isn't a date, is it?" Arthur blurted. No other conclusion made sense. Upon seeing Arthur break the law, infatuation had overcome Berwald. He seemed like the type to live life dangerously, and once he discovered Arthur's bad boy tendencies, he sought to stake a claim. And Arthur, unable to dissuade the Swede, would be forced to occupy his interest until it led to holy matrimony and a plethora of viking babies. How would Arthur break the news to his mother?

"No, s'not," Berwald said, expression unflinching. "Why would it?"

"I, uh . . . I mean . . ." Arthur floundered for words and failed horribly.

Berwald shook his head in disappointment. "I can see that you're tryin' to change the subject."

"I—I am?"

"Mm," Berwald intoned gravely. "I know what's goin' on with you and Francis."

Drat, so he knew about the whole debacle from the start. How cunning of him, to mislead Arthur with coffee and cake.

"Are you going to blackmail me then?" Arthur asked, sitting up straighter. What would someone like Berwald want in exchange for silence? Money was always a good incentive. How much would he request? Odds were that Arthur couldn't afford it. The only reason he lived in a house on his own was because it was his mother's house, the home where he and his brothers grew up. Currently, she had been working for the last year or so in the US. Peter had followed along with her, still only fifteen. The rest of his brothers were scattered across the UK.

"No, I'm not," Berwald replied. Hearing that, Arthur sighed through his nose, relieved. But he tensed again when Berwald continued, "That wasn't the best way to go about it."

So he was just going to lecture him. Arthur could live with that.

"How else was I supposed to go about it? I surely wasn't about to confront Francis on the matter."

Berwald shrugged. "Ya could get 'em flowers."

 _Sorry I broke your vase, Francis. Here are some flowers. Oh, sorry? You don't have a vase to put them in? You could always shove them down your throat. Or up your arse._

That would go over well.

Arthur grimaced. "I doubt that would be effective."

"You'll never know 'til ya try. Better than bein' so obsessive."

"Look Berwald, I appreciate the advice, but I. . . . Obsessive? What do you mean obsessive?"

"You're kinda obvious," he said, taking a drink from his own mug.

"Obsessive of Francis? Rubbish." Francis may be a royal thorn in his side, what with always stopping by and nagging him, and then the occasional run about the yard where Francis ran screaming for his life while Arthur tried to strangle him, but he didn't allow the Frenchman enough value in his life to call his loathing of the man an _obsession_.

"You don't have to lie. I don't judge," Berwald said as if to placate him. "I've seen ya together. All the tension."

Arthur had the decency to look somewhat ashamed. The two of them could get rather loud. "I'm terribly sorry if any of our disputes have disturbed you, but I assure you, I'm not lying."

"S'fine. Not too healthy for the relationship I imagine. But to each their own."

"It's not like it matters. We've always been this way, and we always will." Distracted by the conversation, Arthur took a sip of his coffee. He forced himself not to cringe or cough at the strong richness of the brew. People drank this on a daily basis?

"If you think like that, nothing will change," Berwald said. "You should talk to him. Tell him how you really feel."

"How I feel?" Arthur was startled into a cough. He sat down his mug and tried to stifle the itch in his throat. "He's daft, but I'm sure I get my message across."

"No. You've gotta be direct. Tell him you want him."

"W-want him?"

"Mm. Make him your wife."

Any self-restraint in letting his emotions play in his expression slipped entirely. Arthur gawked at the serious man in front of him. This had to be a dream, some trip to Wonderland. Because surely his neighbor wasn't insinuating that Arthur . . . that he and Francis. . . .

"Oh . . ." Arthur uttered.

Then he laughed.

He couldn't help it. It was ludicrous, that anyone would suggest that Arthur and Francis form a _romantic_ relationship. Disturbing even, to the point that Arthur laughed hysterically. He held his belly and leaned to the side, giving in to the ridiculousness of this whole day.

"Why're you laughing?" Berwald asked, gauging him. Uneasiness tinged his gaze, like he was uncomfortable at his own confusion. "Intervention's aren't funny."

"Is—is this what this is about?" Arthur wheezed. He should really get ahold of himself, but damn if this wasn't the most hilarious thing he'd heard in his life. He'd think the man was pulling his leg, but Berwald appeared so _solemn_ about the whole ordeal that it left no doubt in Arthur's mind of his sincere intentions.

Berwald averted his eyes to the table and shrugged. "You and Francis needed help. Thought I could."

"Berwald, forgive me for laughing, but Francis and I aren't romantically inclined towards each other whatsoever. You have my word on that."

"You're not?" he asked doubtfully.

"Good lord, no. I'd sooner snog a lint roller. I can't stand the bastard. I can't imagine us dating without wanting to kill each other for every second of it."

Berwald tilted his head, unsure how to take this development. He glanced towards a wall, in the direction of Arthur's and ultimately Francis's house as if he could see the window where he'd rescued Arthur. "Then why were you sneakin' in his house?"

"Yes, that. You see, my cat has a nose for trouble. He somehow managed to get into Francis's house. For the life of me, I can't figure how. But the short of it is that Francis wasn't home and I didn't want to waste any time in retrieving my pet."

"That's it?"

"That's it," Arthur agreed, smiling good-naturedly. It took a little more than that to convince Berwald. By the end of it, the man was covering his face, palms pressing into his glasses in order to hide his embarrassment.

"I feel foolish now," Berwald admitted.

"It's alright, mate," Arthur said. "Better than the alternative. Here I've been thinking you'd give me a kicking."

Berwald's expression became even more rigid, if such a thing was possible. "Why would you think that?"

"You know," Arthur gestured towards Berwald's person in general. When that had no effect on him, Arthur chuckled nervously, "Come off it. If you were any graver, there'd be dates carved into you. Surely you know the affect you have on people?"

Apparently he didn't.

People as large as Berwald really shouldn't be able to shrink in on themselves so much or practically summon clouds of gloom with their sulking. Arthur felt as though he'd stepped on a puppy's tail. Or maybe a bear. A bear puppy.

"It's—It's not so bad! Honest!" Arthur attempted to console his dejected companion. Attempted. "We can't help the way we look, not that you look scary! Just a bit . . . unapproachable, but you've turned out to be a nice fellow so that's neither here nor there!"

"Is this why babies cry around me?" Berwald asked to no one in particular.

Arthur, unaccustomed to dealing with the existential crises of vikings, gave up and changed the subject. "You know, this cake is simply brilliant."

"It's my grandmother's recipe." Berwald sounded absolutely lifeless, but this was a start.

Arthur smiled. "That's wonderful. Do let her know it's delicious."

"Thanks, but she's dead."

Arthur wondered if it would be considered a social faux pas to stab his eye with a fork.

* * *

Upon leaving Berwald's house, Arthur took a quick detour to pick up the stool he'd left by Francis's window. He ignored the open window completely. Let Francis think of it what he will. Arthur was too mentally drained to care.

"And to think, he actually thought I was interested in Francis," Arthur scoffed as he went inside through the kitchen. He pulled his shoes off and, hearing the questioning meow of Jasper's approach, directed his words towards his cat. "Can you believe that? Who'd want to kiss that ugly, bearded face of his, much less date him? Berwald's a nice bloke, but he's mental if he thought I'd want to be with him."

Despite Arthur putting his foot in his mouth there at the end, their original conversation could not be purged from his mind. It made him shake his head as much as it caused him to snicker. Berwald probably expected Arthur and Francis to come together like in some romantic comedy and get married by the end.

An unwarranted image of Francis blushing in a wedding gown made Arthur want to punch himself.

"Why did you think that? Why did you have to go think that?" Arthur groaned to himself. He picked Jasper up, hoping for a distraction, and went to lie on the living room couch. The feline settled lazily on Arthur's stomach and chest while sniffing at its master's hand for scratchies.

"You know he wore a dress to school back in secondary?" Arthur told the cat.

Jasper stared back blandly, eyes blinking slowly in that way that said, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I know you don't care, but I had to put up with that. He looked like a fool, but all the girls loved him anyway. If I had tried that, I'd have been pummeled."

" _Mew_."

"You're right, I couldn't pull it off anyway. Not my style and all," Arthur sighed, letting his fingers rub through Jasper's coat.

As suddenly as the image of Francis in a dress had come to him, a new one replaced it, only this time with a different blue-eyed blond. One with sleek glasses and an unabashed grin and a broad chest and a rowdy laugh that shouldn't be as pleasant as it was.

Arthur blinked, realizing that he was imagining Alfred in a white, strapless wedding dress. With a bouquet and everything.

He covered his eyes, cheeks burning. "Get ahold of yourself old boy. You've only spoken to him once."

Yet that singular conversation had been more fulfilling than most of the interactions he'd had in the past year. At the time, Arthur had been too nervous and hopeful to truly think about where their conversation had led them last night. Only after he'd shut his computer off and went to bed did Arthur lie awake, staring at the ceiling, and ponder how things had become so . . . personal between them. Arthur could excuse Alfred, chalk up his stream of chatter to being charismatic. For all Arthur knew, Alfred was the type to talk about his life to new people. Arthur didn't kid himself as being so special for Alfred to reveal those things. Then again, the lad could have been overwhelmed with anxiousness.

Arthur smiled absently as he remembered how incredibly meek Alfred could be, unlike what he'd seen in his videos prior. From the earnest, little smiles he'd given when throwing out random compliments, to his fervent passion for the games and people he played for, it consistently surprised Arthur. Alfred's usual bravado made plenty of reappearances; however, Arthur suspected the American to be a different person when not recording and faced with only one other person instead of thousands.

"He can be a handful, but he's . . . It's curious," Arthur said to himself, trying to articulate what his thoughts were getting at.

Alfred had a lot going on for him that drew Arthur's interest, but that still didn't explain why Arthur had been so candid with him last night. Whatever Alfred's motives had been, they were his own. Arthur just wasn't the type of person to get on so well with someone that quickly. He'd witnessed far too many falling outs, people who'd toss away years of memories over petty reasons, and that left you at the mercy of someone else's whims, because you allowed them to know you. If they knew you, really knew you, then they knew the best places to stab, because you showed them.

You can't get hurt as much if you hide the pieces of your heart, and that's the philosophy Arthur tended to put into practice. There were many words to describe people who close themselves off like that. Jaded, cynical, paranoid, but his personal favorite was guarded. Guarded made sense. He didn't want to leave himself vulnerable. In the scheme of things, Arthur hadn't revealed too much about himself, nothing dangerous so far. As it was, he worried. He didn't like the idea that he could easily forget himself and let something slip, which was a very real possibility if he and Alfred became friends. Alfred had spoken as if this would become a somewhat regular thing, and Arthur was afraid he might like that.

"I bet that git isn't overthinking things nearly this much," he said, tone weary. "I probably didn't make that much of an impression on him anyway."

 _You've got a nice voice._

 _Thanks Arthur. You're really cool, ya know that?_

 _If it's about you, I'm sure it's awesome._

Arthur blew out a breath and stubbornly ignored the blooming warmth in his chest.

* * *

 **And thus ends the small Berwald arc. Apparently it's canon that Sweden is unaware of his intimidating expression. Poor babe. Someone throw a Tino at this man. Give him the love he deserves. SuFin for life yo.**

 **Moving on. Someone in the reviews gave an interesting critique about Arthur and Alfred's first skype session together. They said it was surprising how personal they were when conversing, and I do agree, enough to where I included Arthur's own analysis about it. After I wrote that, I realized that they do have their reasons. For Alfred, he is naturally personable, and in turn he has a way of warming up to people and getting them to open up, and that did affect Arthur. And then both of them were pretty nervous, and people are more prone to word vomit during those times. Finally, at the end of it all, both of them have watched a number of videos made by the other, allowing them to get a feel for the other, so it wasn't exactly the same as talking to a stranger. I could have worked more on the pacing, but as it is, I'll just try to be more mindful with the rest.**

 **I hope you liked the food for thought. As a reward for making it this far, have a bonus scene with our favorite set of twins!**

* * *

Matthew exited his bedroom to find his brother on the living room couch shoveling gobs of popcorn into his mouth and watching TV. You know, the usual morning.

For a minute, Matthew stood by the couch arm. He'd been getting ready to leave for his part-time campus job, but there are just some things you have to stop and stare at.

"Why are you watching a bridal gown show?" Matthew asked. "And why are you crying about it?"

Alfred wiped at his teary eyes with buttery fingers. "Dude, Sierra's finally marrying the love of her life, and she found the perfect dress, but her grandmother doesn't approve, and if her grandmother doesn't approve, then she won't foot the bill for it, and Sierra _has_ to have that one, because she looks beautiful in it and it's her big day, and Grandma's being a dick. Why Grandma, why?"

Okay, the usual _unusual_ morning when living with someone like Alfred.

"Alfred . . . how long have you been watching this show?"

"Couple hours now. Why? You should watch it with me."

"Sorry, but I have work," Matthew apologized, not sorry at all. He ducked into the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal. As he prepared the dish, he talked with his brother. "I thought you were doing a recording session with the cat guy today."

"You mean Arthur. And yeah, but that's later today. He's got work to do before that. He's some big fancy editor, ya know. Isn't that awesome?"

"Yes, stable jobs are awesome," Matthew agreed.

Alfred had told him all about Arthur yesterday, unable to contain his enthusiasm. Matthew never had the heart to turn Alfred away during those moments of ranting excitement, not even when he had studying or whatnot to do. It was nice, seeing his brother so happy. It didn't mean he couldn't tease him though.

Matthew sat at their small kitchen table, still in view of Alfred thanks of the open floor plan. Before digging into his breakfast, he said, "I wonder what he'd think, seeing you get so invested in a show like this."

Alfred stuck his tongue out. "He'd think it's cool. Maybe. It'd be really cool if I could hang out with him and watch shows. Why does there have to be a freaking ocean between us?"

"God put it there, just to spite you."

"Thanks big guy," Alfred said towards the ceiling. "Hey, do you think there are McDonalds in England?"

Used to Alfred's random questions, Matthew shrugged. "Pretty sure there's a McDonalds in almost every country."

"That'd be hella sad if there wasn't. Imagine if Arthur had never eaten there and he came here and I had to show him the ways of the burger."

"You've obviously put far too much thought into this."

"And they even have tea at McDonalds! He's British, so he'd like tea."

"Except British people drink tea in a different way than we do over here."

Alfred stared at his twin, head tilted and eyes large and innocent. "Like . . . not with their mouths?"

Matthew choked on his cereal.

* * *

 **A cry of "BAKAAA!" is heard in the distance.**

 **Lol, thanks for all the support guys. Next chapter should include the highly anticipated collab. Stay tuned next week! Or next month. Idk, I need to find a job.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Alright there?"

"Yup! Just need to check the audio a bit and we should be good to go."

Arthur nodded though he knew Alfred's attention was elsewhere. He could see the other fiddle around, making adjustments, lost in concentration.

 _He looks in his element_ , Arthur thought, his eyes glued to the monitor.

Alfred glowed in soft blue light, glasses vaguely reflecting the settings he worked on as he clicked away. Gone was the timid American he'd met yesterday who faltered over his words and tugged at the cord of his headphones in bouts of nervousness. He'd greeted Arthur today with a smile that could blind the sun (how could teeth be that white?) and joked with him as he set up his equipment for a recording session. It threw Arthur so much that he struggled to say more than a word or two.

"You doing okay today?" Alfred asked suddenly.

Arthur paused. Did Alfred want the truth or a polite response? When acquaintances asked how you were doing, they did so out of obligation, not because they wanted a long-winded tirade about your day.

"Why do you ask?" Arthur responded to stay neutral.

Alfred shrugged, the fabric of his red t-shirt following the rise and fall of his shoulders. "You just seem quiet is all."

Arthur didn't think he'd notice. Did that mean he also noticed how Arthur paid too much attention to the way Alfred's shirt clung to him snuggly? Not that Arthur was being creepy, mind you! It's a perfectly natural thing to notice about a person. It was Alfred's fault anyway for wearing a shirt that tight!

Determined to save face, Arthur forced his gaze away and stared at the spot where Jasper usually laid on the nearby bookshelf. The blasted cat was gone who knew where at the moment, just when Arthur could do with a distraction.

"Do I?" Arthur feigned ignorance. "I must have been lost in thought."

"Long day?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Anything exciting happen?"

Before Arthur could stop himself, he replied casually, "Well, there was that moment where I thought I was going to marry a viking."

It turned out that Alfred was paying attention more than Arthur wagered. Blue eyes fixated directly at the camera and Alfred asked, "What?" in a way that let him know that he had fully captured the other's interest. It equally satisfied and dismayed him, to be in the spotlight.

Arthur forced out a laugh. "Just a silly misunderstanding. It wasn't a date, merely an intervention."

"What?"

"My cat broke into the neighbor's house, you see."

" _What?_ "

"And my other neighbor—he's Swedish—may have happened upon me retrieving him."

"Swedish like the country that has a bunch of guns?"

"That's the Swiss."

"Oh. . . ."

"Yes. At any rate, it was very . . . compromising. And he asked me over for coffee as a cover to couple me and my neighbor together. But that's never going to happen, because we're absolutely the farthest thing from romantically inclined."

As Arthur inwardly shouted at himself to shut up already, that this wasn't interesting at all to Alfred and he was only confusing the poor boy, Alfred placed his palms together, finger tips touching his mouth in a contemplative gesture.

"Okay . . . so where does the viking come in?"

"My neighbor, he's Swedish," Arthur said, as if that answered everything. He picked at the cuff of his sleeve. "And he's . . . large."

Alfred nodded slowly in an appeasing way that said, "I have no idea what you are going on about but I'm going to pretend I am."

Arthur grinned apologetically, "I sound nutters, don't I?"

Alfred snorted loudly before falling into a fit of laughter. Arthur tried to chuckle with him and not feel like the butt of the joke but in truth, this had to be the most awkward conversation of his life, save for the one with Berwald.

 _If there is a God_ , Arthur prayed fervently, _you have my express permission to strike me down._

"Arthur," Alfred said, practically giggling as he wiped at his eyes under his glasses.

"Y-yes?"

"You have to be, without a doubt, one of the most interesting people I've ever met."

"Oh," Arthur uttered blankly. "Oh . . . um, jolly good."

Alfred snorted again and murmured something about Arthur being so British. Arthur let the comment pass him by, too busy reflecting over this new compliment. An ill-conceived compliment. People weren't supposed to toss around those kinds of words carelessly. Alfred had no idea what he was talking about. They hardly knew each other.

"I'm really quite boring," Arthur affirmed. He had no idea why he was trying to convince Alfred of this when the man, despite all odds, had a good impression of Arthur. But a deep need burned inside Arthur for Alfred to understand the truth. That way, he wouldn't be surprised when Arthur didn't meet his expectations.

"Arthur, you vlog about your cat and manage to make it interesting."

"So? There are thousands upon thousands of cat videos out there. Humans are fascinated by cats. That's nothing new."

"True, but most of those videos don't have a witty British dude giving commentary."

"I fail to see how that hardly matters."

"You have _charisma_ ~" Alfred sang, fingers fluttering through the air as if this were some magical quality.

There was no arguing with the stubborn American at this point. Arthur harrumphed and settled for scowling. "Don't you have things to fix?"

"Oh yeah! Can't have the audio messing up. It sucks balls when something messes up, and sometimes I'll have to rerecord things."

"Hn."

The corner of Alfred's lips tugged up in a half-smile as he finished up with his adjustments. "You're not going to be pouting for the whole session, are you?"

"I'm not pouting."

Alfred's smile only widened.

* * *

A wave of fog obscured the small, rural town of Silent Hill. James Sunderland received a letter from his wife where she claimed to be waiting for him there, at their special place, but she died three years ago. When he first arrived, the streets and buildings all seemed abandoned, like the cold realm of limbo drank all the life and color from the world. James soon realized that a nightmare hid amidst the quiet atmosphere.

"There are a bunch of monsters running around," Alfred explained to Arthur. "They all look like disfigured people, with missing limbs or too many legs or no faces. You have to get around them as best you can, and then go around the town to solve different puzzles and whatnot."

They'd already dispensed with greeting Alfred's viewers, and now Alfred was bringing Arthur up to speed with the game's plot. It wasn't necessary, as Arthur had been watching Alfred's recent videos. He didn't need to know that though, and Arthur would eat his shoe before he admitted to it.

"And where is this now?" Arthur asked, keeping up appearances. The main protagonist, James, wandered around a darkened office. He had short blond hair, a melancholy demeanor, and wore a forest green jacket. A lady stood off to the side, blonde hair reaching her shoulders and clothes in shades of red.

"We're in a hospital. Some little girl ran in here and we're looking for her. Can't leave a child by itself in a place like this, ya know? Even if she is a brat."

"Isn't that a bit harsh?"

"She stomped on my hand and laughed at my pain. She is the most annoying boss I've encountered so far."

"You let yourself be bested by a little girl?"

"She's _vicious_. She's almost as evil as Maria here."

James stood by the red-clad lady, pointedly staring at her from less than a foot away. The lady didn't comment about the breach of personal space.

"Maria's the woman?" Arthur clarified.

"Yeah. I found her in town and she keeps following me around. Not only is her name almost exactly like my dead wife's name, Mary, but she even _looks_ just like my wife. And the way she acts is creepy. I think she's a demon sent to seduce me to the dark side."

"She does have a sultry air about her. Just look at that pink, leopard printed miniskirt. Ravishing."

"She's probably going to be the end boss of the game, after she shows her true form. I got my eyes on you, Maria."

Alfred left the room shortly after and exited into a hallway. The flashlight attached to James's front, jacket pocket provided a bleached out glow in the darkened space. Black and white checkered tiles lined the floor, and an occasional wooden bench stood out against cracked, plastered walls. Overall, the place looked dingy, dated, and more than a bit eerie in the silence.

The screen switched for a moment and a worn map came up.

"Alright, if I were a child, where would I hide in a hospital? Any suggestions?"

Arthur glanced over the map at Alfred's request. They were currently in the front of the hospital, surrounded by various labeled rooms like the pharmacy, reception office, and examination rooms. Further to the left was a wing that had what he guessed to be patient rooms, and towards the end were shower rooms, a garden area, and a . . . pool room?

"Do hospitals generally have pools?" Then again, it could have been used for therapy purposes or water births. Arthur doubted that the doctors here would have it for their leisure.

Alfred's voice perked up several notches. "There's a pool here? Sweet, I love swimming!"

"You're not here on holiday, Alfred. You're here to find a lost girl."

"But kids like swimming. Maybe she went in there?"

"This place is abandoned, correct?" Arthur questioned. "Depending on how long it's been and the reason why it's been abandoned, there might not be any water in there."

"So an empty pool? Man, that sucks. That's like getting a hamburger without the meat. No point at all."

"Careful Alfred, you're letting your American show through."

"Patriotic pride, baby! Next it'll rain down red, white, and blue confetti and a cacophony of eagle cries will sound in the distance."

"You know how to use the word 'cacophony' in a sentence properly? Color me surprised."

"What's that? I can't hear you over the sweet song of freedom. _Ca-caw_! _Ca-caw_!"

Arthur smiled at the teasing banter. He'd worried that Alfred would take his sarcasm to heart, but it phased him as much as oil on water, giving Arthur more incentive to relax. It was hard not to, around someone like Alfred.

At length, Alfred spotted the cafeteria and all notions of swimming were left behind in the dust. He directed James around the corner and down a long corridor, his and Maria's footsteps echoing in a series of clacks.

"I don't know why you're getting your hopes up," Arthur scoffed. "Any food in there would have wasted away by now. Or eaten by rats."

"You never know," Alfred said optimistically. "Maybe the cafeteria is stuck in an eternal time loop where there's still food and the workers are still there, and it's the only safe haven in this place."

"I'm sure that's exactly what it is. There's definitely not going to be homicidal doctors in there or anything."

"Dude, don't say that. Why would you say that?" Alfred asked, thoroughly spooked.

"It's a hospital in a town filled with monsters. Best not to rule anything out."

"I'm blaming you if there are evil doctors in here," Alfred said before he tried the cafeteria door. Sadly, the lock was broken and the door could not be open. Same went for the kitchen as well. Alfred tried a few times in denial, the doorknob clicking uselessly each time.

"At least you didn't find any homicidal doctors," Arthur consoled.

"Staaaaaahp," Alfred groaned.

Arthur grinned. "Or maybe you'll find _nurses_ instead."

"Arthur."

"Ones with giant needles."

"Why are they giant? No one needs that."

"All the better to poke you with."

Alfred complained more, and though Arthur couldn't see him with the game screen pulled up, he knew Alfred was _squirming_ with every taunt. Arthur chuckled darkly.

"You're so sadistic," Alfred muttered, busily checking other doors and finding most of them broken.

"No, you're just easy to scare."

"Am not! Heroes don't get scared! I don't care if there are homicidal doctors or nurses with big needles. Come at me, bruh!"

Most of the doors turned out to be broken, a few of them simply locked like the wing that led to the patient rooms and pool. The Reception Office remained open, along with the stairwell. They'd already been to the office.

"Stairs it is then," Alfred said, heading through the door. Even with the flashlight, it was darker inside the stairwell than out on the ground floor. One flight of steps led up and another down. Alfred ignored the ones going down.

"Shouldn't you check the basement first?"

Alfred laughed like Arthur had said something crazy. "One of the rules of horror. _Never_ go into the basement. The killer is always lurking in the basement."

Arthur secretly hoped the other floors would be blocked off, just so Alfred would be forced to face his fears and give Arthur some entertainment.

Alfred went up to the next floor and the door opened easily. A rose hue washed this new corridor, giving it a bit more color than the rooms below, if not more ominous as well. It was especially disconcerting when a cringe-worthy static sound erupted as if from a broken radio.

"Oh," Alfred uttered in response to the threatening noise. He spun to look around himself for possible danger and promptly freaked out when he saw slow moving, pale figures creeping out of the darkness.

"Oh my gOD! WHAT ARE THEY?!" Alfred's voice rose with his panic. He didn't stay to find out and escaped back into the relative safety of the stairwell. The sudden return to silence gave the illusion of safety.

"Alfred, what are you doing? Go back in there."

"Are you serious? I'm not doing that!"

Arthur huffed, "How do you expect to get farther if you're hiding?"

"I'm not hiding, just…making a tactical retreat?"

"That's running away in layman's terms."

"Fuck. Okay, I'm not running away, just going to check other things and then I'll come back _later_." Alfred went to go up to the next floor, but Arthur persisted.

"Alfred, don't walk away from your problems. Face them like a man."

"My problems want to kill me Arthur. They can wait."

"You'll have to go in there eventually. You might as well get it over with. The quicker the better."

"Like ripping off a Band-Aid," Alfred murmured morosely. "One with teeth and claws and vendettas against men who are just looking for their dead wives."

"You have weapons, don't you? Just use those."

"Handguns only go so far when you're surrounded by monsters that want to eat your face off."

"Maybe they don't want to eat your face off," Arthur consoled. "Maybe they just want to maim you."

A hysterical flutter entered Alfred's forced laugh. "Ha. That's _sooo_ much better. I don't think I want to face those things alone."

"You have Maria with you."

"Maria don't do shit."

"Well then," Arthur said, rubbing his forehead. Was Alfred always this difficult? However did he get through previous horror games? "Use her as a decoy. They go after her while you fight them or go around them."

"That's so unheroic."

"That's survival of the fittest."

" . . . I bet you would like the genocide run of Undertale."

"What?"

"Whatever. I can do this. I've fought monsters before. I fought freakin' pyramid head and only died a few times!"

"Pyramid head?" Arthur wondered, trying to think back to the previous videos he'd seen. That sounded familiar. . . .

"It's this monster with a metal pyramid covering his head. Drags around a giant sword. He's like _the_ monster of this game."

"Oh, yes. I see." Arthur nodded as he remembered Alfred facing such a creature. He broke records in pitch with his girlish screeching. "How did a pyramid get on his head?"

"I dunno, aliens? I bet it was aliens."

Eventually, Arthur coaxed Alfred back out of the stairwell. The static noise immediately assaulted their ears and Alfred readied his handgun at the approaching shambling creature down the shadowed hallway. It looked naked at first glance and distinctly humanoid.

"I got bullets!" Alfred declared by way of greeting and fired away. The slim figure down the hall jolted a couple of times, blood pouring from its front when hit. In the next second, a similar figure rounded the corner directly in front of James.

"OH MY GOD!" Alfred shrieked over and over. He faltered in shooting the other one and turned too late to deal with the new threat. The creature's arm jerked up and swatted at James with a long, stick-like weapon, making James grunt in pain.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?! OH MY GOD! OH DUDE! HOLY SHIT, ARE YOU A NURSE?! YOU'RE A NURSE! ARTHUR, IT'S A FUCKING NURSE! MAYDAY, MAYDAY, REQUESTING AIR SUPPORT! AH, IT'S KILLING ME!"

"Kill it back! Have at it!" Arthur cheered.

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"

True as Alfred said—or screamed rather—the creatures were dressed in bloodied nurse attire. The dresses fit them like a second skin, the skirt barely long enough to cover the essentials and expose thin, sickly colored legs. Their heads looked covered with tightly wrapped bindings, and on top were nurse's caps. They both were leaned over to the side, as if they couldn't stand straight, and their heads dangled grotesquely like corpses come to life.

The one assaulting James shrieked in guttural snarls and would have attacked again had Alfred not switched his fire to the closer one. He shot, and again blood poured, the nurse jerking back with every hit until it fell to the ground. Alfred repeated the process with the other and wasn't satisfied until he'd stomped on both of the creatures writhing on the floor, to assure that they wouldn't rise again.

"There are still more? Oh sweet baby Jesus, there's still more," Alfred fretted, looking around the area. Nothing popped out, but they could hear a heavy drumming, reminiscent of an industrial rhythm.

"I don't see anything," Arthur supplied.

"The music and static's still there. That means there's more! Just— _why_?! Why did it have to be _nurses_?!"

"This is a hospital after all."

"Shut up! I blame you for this! I hate you! I hate this game! I hate my life! Why am I doing this?! Can we just go play some Goat Simulator? I think that's a nice ide—AAAAAHHH WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? I'M SORRY I DISSED YOUR HOSPITAL, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I HAVE TOO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!"

Arthur winced. He would go deaf by the end of this.

* * *

 **This isn't the end of their session, but I thought you all had waited long enough for the next chapter. The reason I chose** _ **Silent Hill 2**_ **was because Alfred was already doing a walkthrough of it, and I've heard that it's referred to as one of the best horror games (which is why I think Alfred is playing it in the first place; he wanted to see if it lived up to the hype). I've played through it before and I definitely recommend it.**

 **Speaking of games, Alfred mentioned playing** _ **Goat Simulator**_ **. It's a game where you're a goat and you run around doing crazy stunts. Alfred played this with Matthew before, and Matt thought it was the stupidest thing that has ever existed.**

" **Why am I playing as a goat?"**

" **So you no longer have to fantasize about being a goat."**

" **Why would anyone fantasize about that?"**

" **I don't know. I don't judge."**

" **Alfred, this is the most pointless game you have ever forced me to play."**

" **My work here is done then."**

 **Speaking of Matthew, let's have a bonus scene!**

* * *

"OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!"

The chorus of terror seeped through the walls and into the living room where Matthew had parked himself on the couch not too long ago upon returning home from work.

"Ah, so it begins," Matthew commented. Distantly, he worried that Alfred would get a little _too_ loud, but their apartment neighbors on either side of them were usually away at work during the day. It should be okay.

As if to mock him, the door to the apartment knocked three, short raps.

"Please don't be Yao," Matthew prayed, thinking of their fiery landlord. He went to answer the door, breath held and an apology at the ready.

What stood on the other side was far worse than Yao.

"Hello!" the man greeted, smiling pleasantly.

"Oh, Ivan, you're here," Matthew said in surprise. This was one of their neighbors, a neighbor who should have no reason to be standing here.

The taller blond hummed, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

"Uh, it's just that you're usually at work around now, that's all!"

He nodded. "I took off early and happened to be passing by when I thought I heard yelling. It sounded like someone was being murdered and I thought I might assist."

 _Assist in helping the victim or assist in the murder?_ Matthew thought uneasily. On the outside, he put his best smile on and said, "Thank you for checking, but we're okay here."

"Are you sure? I could have sworn I heard Alfred's pitiful screaming."

"Um, yes, he's fine. I promise."

"MAYDAY, MAYDAY, REQUESTING AIR SUPPORT! AH, IT'S KILLING ME!"

Matthew glanced over his shoulder from where the muffled screams came from Alfred's shut bedroom door. Would Ivan believe that the noise was just a cat? Turning back to Ivan's smug smile, Matthew knew there would be no convincing him otherwise.

"That does not sound fine, Matthew. Are you hiding something from me?" His tone may be light, but Matthew swore he saw dark shadows curling around Ivan.

"T-that won't be necessary! It's just—sorry, Alfred's playing a game right now. I can maybe tell him to keep it down, but he's recording and. . . ." he trailed off when Ivan seemed to grow several inches taller suddenly.

"One of his little games? I see," Ivan giggled. No giggle should sound that creepy. The hairs on the back of Matthew's neck prickled in warning. "It would be a shame to interrupt him."

"Oh, y-yeah. Thanks, he's—"

"But you see, I have just come home from work and wish to relax. How can I do that when I hear an annoying gnat buzzing in my ear?"

"I . . . I don't . . ."

"It would be a shame if Yao had to come deal with this himself."

Matthew waved his hands about. "Wah—Please don't! There's no need for that. I can go tell Alfred—"

"Oh, but it seems that my peace has already been disturbed. However can you make up for it now?"

What was this? Was Ivan hustling him? Would he demand payment? Matthew was just an undergrad with a part-time job! He didn't need more stress! Just what had Alfred done to piss off Ivan this much? Granted, those two had never gotten along, but Matthew didn't think his brother had done anything too horrible recently.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what. . . ."

Yet again, Ivan didn't allow Matthew to finish. With that ever present smile, Ivan latched onto Matthew's wrist and began dragging him down the hall.

"I think you can start making it up by having a late lunch with me. Your treat," Ivan decided, confident that Matthew would agree. And really, what else could Matthew do?

* * *

 **Hang in there, Mattie! Ivan just wants to be friends! I'm sure he's not up to something malicious!**


	9. Chapter 9

**RECAP: Alfred and Arthur are knee-deep in spooks. Game characters James and Maria are still traversing the hospital in Silent Hill. And Matthew was kidnapped by the Russian mafia.**

* * *

"Are you alright?"

Alfred breathed deeply, in and out, striving for a pace less than hyperventilating. His breaths came muffled, as if his hands covered his face.

"Yeah. . . ." he responded and paused for a shaky breath. As Arthur thought to suggest they end the session here (for the sake of Alfred's mental well-being), he resumed, "I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" he asked dubiously.

"It takes more than that to bring me down. Just, uh . . . what's my motivation again?"

If Alfred was adamant about continuing, then Arthur supposed he could indulge him. "A little girl needs to be saved. Your dead wife awaits your return. The monsters need to be killed. Your viewers will be upset if you gave up halfway through the game. Take your pick."

"For the girl," Alfred agreed. "For dead wives everywhere. For all the monsters that just really need to stop. For my loyal viewers."

"For Narnia," Arthur said with his usual dry humor.

" _Damn it, Arthur_ ," Alfred tried not to laugh but failed. He finally found the fortitude to un-pause the game.

They had yet to leave the second floor after Alfred dispatched the nurses. He now pulled up the map to see where they should go. On every floor, there was a large Day Room, but this one turned out to be as unreachable as the ground floor Day Room had been.

"Why is daylight being kept from me?" Alfred demanded.

"They knew you were coming and blocked it off."

"I am personally offended."

"You brought this on yourself. Just look what you did to their poor nurses."

"They were _hell spawn_! You told me to kill them!"

Arthur tutted at him. "We mustn't blame others for our own actions, Alfred. Now be a good lad and check out the other rooms."

"Yes, Mom," Alfred said mockingly and had James storm off back down the hall they came from.

Down a hallway past the stairs, there were a cluster of rooms: a linen room, a nurse's station, and a men and women's locker room. Alfred refused to mess with Satan's room (the nurse's station). It was covered by a metal shutter and Alfred gave it a wide berth in case anything popped out. The linen room door was broken and couldn't be opened. That left the men and women's locker room.

Alfred entered the men's locker room.

"Oh my God," Alfred said in wonder. "There are lockers."

"In a locker room? Blasphemy."

"Who'da thunk it?" he agreed. He turned James left and right, shining the flashlight over the small, rectangle of a room. There were two rows of lockers hugging the walls and parallel from each other—about ten in total. Faded words had been carved into the rusted metal doors. A white coat with dried blood hung over the top of one. Another locker sported a worn poster featuring a swimsuit clad, blonde woman.

"Oh children, look away!" Alfred exclaimed dramatically at the 'scandalous' poster. "I think I need an adult."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Alfred, you are an adult. Or I was led to believe you were one."

"Says who? I didn't register for that."

"Come off it. She's fairly decent, you know. There are far worse images out there."

"Don't know what you're talking about. My innocent eyes shouldn't be tainted. . . . When you squint at it, it kinda looks like Maria."

Arthur snorted. "I thought you weren't looking?"

"I'm not. James is. He's telling me about it." Indeed, Alfred did have James facing the poster from an inch away. "She's blonde, and she's even dressed in red. Like Maria."

"Maybe Maria had a modeling career?"

Alfred gasped. "You mean she _didn't_ crawl up from the fiery pits of Hell to steal my immortal soul? Nah, I don't buy it."

Alfred searched the room. None of the lockers would open, and with nothing to be found, they left the room. Alfred wanted to leave the area altogether, never mind the women's locker room. "I'm a man. I can't go in the _women's_ locker room," Alfred said or some such rubbish. Arthur thought the better of reminding him that this was only a video game and told him to just search the damn room already.

Across the hall they went. Upon entering the new locker room, the first noticeable thing that stood out was how James's head pointedly stared down towards his left at a long desk sandwiched between the lockers. Arthur had noticed the game character did this whenever there was an item of note. There were a few objects on the table, just not anything terribly noteworthy. A soft drink can, a small stuffed bear, and what looked like pictures lay scattered about.

"James wants a Coke," Alfred said.

"I do believe he's wondering more about the bear." It was a small thing, sitting upright on the stained table. Amazingly, it looked to be in fair condition, its light brown fur untorn. It seemed sad sitting there without an owner to claim it. "What's something like that doing here?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's from the gift shop. Hospitals have gift shops. I remember when I broke my ankle, a lot of people got me stuff from the gift shop."

"Goodness, may I ask what happened?" Despite playing video games, Alfred did seem rather, erm, fit. Arthur could easily imagine him playing all sorts of sports and getting into trouble.

"Oh, I jumped off a roof."

Arthur's jaw literally dropped. Alfred didn't hesitate in the slightest. He said it as if it were just another fact, as if people admit every day to their dark past. He'd never pegged Alfred as the sort. The American always presented himself as lively, full of heart and laughs. This new information didn't mesh with what Arthur had seen thus far, which explained Arthur's struggle for words. "Alfred . . . were—were you, you know?"

"Yep!" Alfred declared proudly. "I was trying to see if I could fly. Like Superman. But that didn't really work and my mom got mad at me."

Arthur covered his mouth and barely had the strength to ask, "You . . . you were trying to fly, like a superhero?"

"Yeah! I had this cool plan and everything. It involved a tarp and a really big fan—"

"Please tell me you honestly weren't this foolish as a child?"

"What are you talking about? This happened last summer."

Arthur hung up on him.

* * *

Matthew glanced around himself with the increasing awareness that he did not belong here. _Here_ being an upscale steakhouse featuring a dark wood setting, leather seats, and white-clothed tables decorated with wine glasses and silver cutlery. Golden sconces lined the black, glossy walls, emanating what should be a warm light but only made Matthew wish for windows and natural light. On the way in, he swore he spotted a piano and a sleek, rounded bar. At this time of day, the place was about half full. Glancing at the other patrons, Matthew was willing to bet that they weren't the sort to look at the prices on menus.

"This is nice, don't you think?" Ivan said from across the table. The white-clothed fancy table. He looked pleased as punch.

"Very nice," Matthew agreed. _Too nice_ , he silently added. His fingers played with the edges of the table cloth. When was the last time he had eaten somewhere with an actual table cloth?

"I have been here before. The food is good and the people competent."

Matthew nodded in lieu of answering. To avoid Ivan's gaze, he stared down at his menu. He gulped to see that all of the prices were in the double digits.

"So Matthew, what is it that you do exactly?" With the gleam in Ivan's eyes, Matt wondered if he already knew the answer and was just humoring him with small talk.

"I'm an undergrad student. Studying wildlife science. I work at the pizzeria on campus too. Nothing that special."

Ivan brightened with all the delight of a child. "You like animals then?"

"I love them," he admitted. He was torn between being polite and not getting too invested in this conversation. It's not like he knew that much about Ivan, and what he'd seen of him, Matthew wasn't sure that they were, ah, _compatible_ as friends. Besides, Ivan would probably grow bored of him quickly anyway.

"What is your absolute favorite?"

Matt blinked at the surprising realization that, even if _he_ wasn't, _Ivan_ was quite invested in this conversation. Unless he had phenomenal acting skills. That might explain why he was looking at Matthew so eagerly.

"Uh, that's hard to say," he responded noncommittally. "I like otters a lot." Just the other day, Matthew had been showing his brother pictures of otters. _Look Al, they hold hands when they sleep!_ "Oh, I really like bears too!"

"Bears? That is surprising."

"Why?"

"They are very fierce animals. I know this because I was bitten by one once."

"Oh my gosh, were you alright?" Matthew gasped, genuinely horrified on his companion's behalf. In the back of his mind, he berated himself for asking such a stupid question. How could anyone be alright from surviving a bear attack?

"Of course. It tickled a bit, so I bit him back."

Matthew didn't know what to say to that and was glad when their waiter came back with the drinks that they had ordered.

"Are you two ready to order?" the waiter asked, pen at the ready. The young man gave them a minimal, professional smile. What was he thinking about them? Did he think Matthew and Ivan were coworkers? Friends? Dating? Did he know that Matthew couldn't afford to eat at places with tablecloths?

"Yes, we're ready," Ivan replied confidently without glancing at Matthew for confirmation. "I'll have the dry-aged rib eye."

The waiter nodded and added a couple more specifications that Ivan made. Matthew hurriedly looked over his menu for the cheapest item he could find that wasn't water. Maybe a salad?

"I'll have a sala—"

"My date will have the same as me," Ivan talked over Matthew. And just as Ivan never bothered to ask Matthew directly, so too did the waiter ignore him. He jotted the order down and nodded to Ivan ( _um, excuse me sir, I exist too_ ), telling him their meals would be done in a flash. In the next moment, the waiter had taken their menus and was striding away, lost to the great beyond (the kitchen).

"It is a very good choice," Ivan assured Matthew. Maybe he could see how stricken Matt looked? "You will like it. Isn't this fun? It was a great idea, for you to treat me."

Matthew inwardly sobbed over the fate of his poor wallet.

* * *

Alfred went into full-blown panic mode when Arthur dropped out of the call. One moment, the Brit was there, offering witty remarks. The next, dead silence. It could only mean one thing.

"Arthur's dead," Alfred wheezed. He'd already quickly paused the game, but that didn't help. The monsters could still come through the screen and eat him. They'd probably gotten to Arthur already. Alfred knew it was a bad idea to play this game.

Over and over Alfred tried to call Arthur. The call failed each time.

His room suddenly felt too small, too dark. And here he was, alone, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck.

Was that a noise from the living room he just heard?

"This is like a horror movie," Alfred said to no one but himself. At least he was recording himself. That way, if a monster busted up into his room, they'd know why his body was ripped to shreds. Or dude, what if they never found a body?

"Maaaaaatt?" Alfred called in a tone too high pitched, looking over his shoulder at the door.

Nothing stirred.

Alfred gulped and had the deeply disturbing notion that, if he walked to the door and opened it, he would find his brother bleeding out on the carpet. Or being pulled into the television by that dark-haired chick from that one scary movie. Or a demon possessed him and he'd be crawling on the ceiling. Or—

"Hello."

Alfred shrieked bloody murder and ripped off his headphones. His terrified gaze fell on the computer, where Arthur's image had returned. It took longer than it should have to realize that the sudden voice had been Arthur's.

Of all the jump scares Alfred had been prepared for, who would have thought Arthur would be the worst one?

It was a testament to how brave and cool Alfred was that he didn't dissolve into hysterical crying. He replaced his headphones—hands totally not shaking—and gave a winsome smile.

"Hey, I thought I lost you there, buddy," Alfred greeted. He could have pat his own back for how normal he sounded.

"Are you sure you don't need a minute?" Arthur asked warily. "You screamed so loud that Jasper ran out of the room like Death was chasing him."

Alfred laughed awkwardly. "Ha ha, me? Need a minute? Nah, I'm good. I was—I was testing you! Yeah."

"Testing me for what?"

"What about that call drop, am I right?" Alfred said in a rush. "Your internet okay?"

"My internet? Yes. My ears? That's debatable," Arthur grumbled, rubbing said appendages. "Sorry about all that. These calls can be rather unreliable."

"You sure it's all good?"

"Yes, certainly." Arthur _did_ look composed and not-mauled. "Shall we continue with the game?"

"Oh, right," Alfred said distractedly. He looked around himself quickly to make sure he didn't knock anything over when he had jumped out of his seat. He settled himself once more, ready to un-pause the game. Well, as ready as he'd ever be.

"This isn't going to mess up the video, is it?" Arthur asked.

"What, the call drop? Nah, it's all good. I can just edit that part out." Nobody needed to see him spazzing out like a little girl at nothing anyway. "So, where were we?"

"The bear."

"Right, right." Alfred un-paused the game and clicked on the bear. A cut-scene came next.

James reached out to run his fingers over the bear's head. He flinched in pain and jerked his hand away, having been pricked by something. Alfred momentarily thought that maybe the bear was sentient and had bit James. But no, a bent needle stuck out of the top. James extracted it and added it to the inventory. The cut-scene ended there.

"That's it?" Alfred asked.

"Why did he take the needle?" Arthur asked.

"I dunno, but I'll probably need it for something later."

"But why would James pick it up if he has no reason for it? It doesn't make sense."

"It's game logic, Arthur. You've got to start thinking like a gamer."

"It's stupid is what it is. Hey, aren't you going to take the bear too?"

James did keep on staring down at the bear, as if it held more purpose. Alfred clicked on it again.

"'Just a normal stuffed bear. There's nothing else,'" Alfred read the words aloud that popped up. "Nope, guess that's it."

"But that's not fair!" Arthur argued. Alfred was surprised by how genuinely invested he was in this. "If you should be able to take the sorry needle, then you should be able to take the bear."

"Well, I can't."

"Try again."

"Arthur," Alfred laughed. "The game won't let me. The bear's obviously not important."

"Now that's just rude." He imagined Arthur to be pouting and it nearly made him want to check on what his expression looked like right now. "I still say you should be able to pick it up. It's not fair to the bear that he's left like this."

"It's okay. We'll come back and tell Mr. Bear all about our adventures." It didn't help much to soothe Arthur's worry for the bear (seriously though, that was kind of cute, how much he wanted to take the stuffed bear along). Alfred listened to more complaints as he checked the rest of the room. What he found in an open locker made Alfred completely forget about the bear.

"SHOTGUN! WAHOO!" Alfred cried in victory. He may have done a happy dance. Just a little. "Maria, we got a shotgun! Look at it! Look!" He equipped it and showed it off to Maria who stood nearby, hand on hip, and appearing rather bored.

"I don't believe she's impressed with your little gun," Arthur offered, sounding like he shared that sentiment. "Don't worry chap, happens to the best of us."

"Oh, it's not little! Look at this baby!" Alfred declared, though missing the meaning of Arthur's jab entirely. He made James spin left and right, shotgun fully displayed. "This is a good day today. We're gonna stop _all_ the monsters. Watch out evil scum! There's a new sheriff in town."

Alfred distantly heard Arthur murmur about confidence levels in direct correlation to gun sizes. But whatever! He found a shotgun!

James left the women's locker room a new man. He strutted down the corridors, unafraid of potential hospital horrors. When that same industrial rhythm began playing that alerted the player a monster was nearby, did James run away? Nu-uh. He raced around the next corner, spotted the four legged beast, and blew it to smithereens!

"This is the beginnings of a beautiful friendship," Alfred told the shotgun before bursting into a rendition of "I Will Survive."

* * *

 **What I didn't show in this chapter was what happened with Arthur after he hung up. It was a beautiful tirade to be sure, one that only his cat bore witness too. "I swear if there wasn't an ocean between us, I'd throttle that idiot! I'd take his stupid, smiling, handsome face and rip off his head, and then I'd skewer it and display it on the lawn. And when his brother or his mother or whoever comes around asking 'why have you forsaken my son?' I'll tell them, 'Because he had a terminal case of DUMBARSE!'"**

 **So now there's some stuff going on with Mattie and Ivan? Maybe? Really never planned for Ivan to show up in the first place, but there he is. What are Ivan's real intentions? How open will Matt be to them? No seriously, I don't know. What should I do with them?**

 **By the way, sorry about the long wait. I've been in a funk with my writing, but the other night I found myself reading reviews. I found them so inspiring that I jumped back into writing the next chapter. So if you ever think that reviews don't matter much, think again.**

 **Thanks for all the support. Here, have a bonus scene.**

* * *

Having finished his recording session with Arthur, Alfred finally left his room to breathe in some fresh air. He felt proud of the amazing footage they made together. Sure, Alfred would have to spend hours editing it, but for now he would bask in the glory of accomplishment.

"That bag of dicks!"

Or . . . not.

"Mattie?" Alfred questioned. He found his brother attacking the furniture with a dust rag. A glance by the front door showed a laundry basket filled with clean, folded clothes. If Alfred ventured to the kitchen, he didn't doubt for a second that he would find the counters spotless.

Alarm bells went off in Alfred's head. When Matthew was mad, he muttered snarky comments to himself. When he was really mad, he cooked enough pancakes to feed a small country. But when he was furious? He cleaned.

Everything.

"Uh, Mattie?" Alfred attempted to approach him, knowing his life could very well be at risk. The last time he'd seen Matthew this angry, he'd stayed up for three days straight working on a research paper only for his professor to reject it on a small technicality. Matthew had been so upset that he accidentally broke his own glasses during a cleaning frenzy. Then he broke down crying and wouldn't calm down until Alfred took him to IHOP. Talk about a rough day.

Alfred sincerely hoped that whatever brought upon this rage fest, it wasn't because of him.

"He used me. He _used_ me."

"For land development?" Alfred asked automatically. He really should learn to think before he opened his mouth. Now wasn't the time for _Spongebob_ quotes. Matthew didn't appreciate it at all. He whipped his head so fast that his neck audibly popped. Matthew didn't react to the sound, glaring at Alfred with the heat of six suns.

"No, that jerk used me for _steaks_!" he yelled. Not once did he pause in wiping down the end table by the couch. The living room would be gleaming by the time he was through.

"Were they good steaks at least? Wait, someone used you? Who was it, bro? I'll kick their ass!"

"No, Alfred. We are _not_ going to kick his ass. We are _nice_ people. And even if someone forces you to buy them seventy dollar steaks, you don't beat them over the head with a hockey stick. Even though you really want to! Because that's not what nice people do!"

"Uh…so who—?"

"You see _nice people_ just sit there and take it. They let themselves be taken advantage of, and get ignored by waiters, and they wind up poor! And what happens to poor people? They end up living in cardboard boxes and starving in the streets because of steaks that cost _seventy dollars_!"

Matthew wasn't even wiping the table anymore, more so smacking it with the rag. When that ceased to be enough to vent his frustrations, Matthew tossed the rag aside, growled wordlessly, and flung himself onto the couch face first.

Alfred couldn't think of offering anything better than, "Do you want me to call Mom? I think I should call Mom."

Matthew cried out in anguish, "I don't want to be _poooor_!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go call Mom," Alfred decided and fled the room to get his phone.


	10. Chapter 10

**WARNING! The format for this chapter is wonky, since I tried to mimic the format of a youtube comment's section, but Fanfiction isn't that versatile. *cries into the abyss* If you don't want to put up with that, that's fine. No real plot progression here. Just comment section wackiness.**

 **I did try my best though. Please note that horizontal lines separate the comment-conversations.**

* * *

 **Shiningpink** _1 hour ago_

Aww, it's okay Alfred! Hang in there! To be honest though, I was hoping Mattie would join him for this, but Arthur's really funny!

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 **Lluvia Di'Noche** _1 hour ago_

Who's Mattie?

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 **Shiningpink** _1 hour ago_

Alfred's brother! They play together sometimes. Oh my gosh, you should check out them playing resident evil 6. Mattie gets so sassy.

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 **Lluvia Di'Noche** _1 hour ago_

Oh yeah, I know who you mean now. I never remember his name so I call him Alfred number 2.

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* * *

 **thenameyouforgot** _48 minutes ago_

I know you've done the pacifist run of Undertale, but could you do the genocide run? With Arthur?

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 **Space Dugong** _31 minutes ago_

I would love that! I have a feeling that it would mostly be Arthur evil cackling while Alfred is sobbing.

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 **thenameyouforgot** _28 minutes ago_

Well we do love to see Alfred suffer :)

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 **AlfredtheHero** _26 minutes ago_

Plz no

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* * *

 **exca314** _2 hours ago_

What happened with you and Kiku? Why don't you guys do vids together anymore?

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 **settingitoff** _2 hours ago_

They do sometimes. They're both just busy. Kiku mainly does reviews anyway.

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 **ChrisRockArmsRedfield** _2 hours ago_

kiku would have been better here, this other guy doesn't know shit about games

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 **exca314** _2 hours ago_

I didn't say Arthur was bad… Just that I would have liked to see Kiku more.

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 **Let'sDoOurBest** _2 hours ago_

+ChristRockArmsRedfield It's a matter of opinion really. I liked the fact that Arthur isn't a gamer. It gives a different perspective. And they're interactions were cute! Totally ship worthy.

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 **ChrisRockArmsRedfield** _2 hours ago_

+Let'sDoOurBest stfu with your gay bullshit. all I was saying was that kiku actually knows what he's doing. but it's people like you who are ruining let's players.

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 **Let'sDoOurBest** _2 hours ago_

+ChristRockArmsRedfield Um, what?

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 **ChrisRockArmsRedfield** _2 hours ago_

+Let'sDoOurBest alfred's not gay, so leave your "opinions" to yourself

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 **settingitoff** _2 hours ago_

I think someone needs a nap.

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* * *

 **SecretWishX** _1 hour ago_

THIS WAS SO AWESOME! I can't get over that moment when Alfred was getting chased and Arthur kept telling him to run inside the elevator.

Arthur: "The lift! The lift is right there!"

Alfred: "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO LIFT?!"

And then it turns out it's broken anyway. XD

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 **Motivation is Dying** _40 minutes ago_

Arthur: *explains what a lift is*

Alfred: "…..your Britishness almost cost me my life."

I died.

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 **An Arm and a Leg** _37 minutes ago_

My favorite moment was when they had to go all the way back to the locker room with the bear just to find the examination room key. Alfred was so salty, and then Arthur reminding Alfred not to use obscene language in front of the bear.

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 **Motivation is Dying** _33 minutes ago_

Alfred: "Let's adopt this bear child."

Arthur: "I tried to but you didn't want to, remember?"

Alfred: "Game mechanics, Arthur. Game mechanics."

Arthur: "You just tell that to Rupert."

Alfred: "You named the bear Rupert?"

Arthur: *gets cutely defensive*

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* * *

 **Silent Searcher** _3 hours ago_

This is bringing back flashbacks of when I first played this game. I never did beat it. If you get through this all the way Alfred, you have my respect.

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 **SonoSvegliato** _3 hours ago_

every time Alfred screams I do too

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 **Missingwings** _3 hours ago_

Same. Meanwhile, Arthur's just, "Charge the enemy!" Haha, I hope he joins Alfred for more.

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 **SonoSvegliato** _3 hours ago_

+Missingwings I get the feeling that Arthur doesn't feel fear, he'd be a better character than James to watch going through silent hill, just "are you honestly spitting acid at me right now? and here I thought we could be civil"

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 **Missingwings** _2 hours ago_

+SonoSvegliato O_O That'd be unreal. Arthur's not even human.

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 **AlfredtheHero** _2 hours ago_

Have I ever mentioned this theory I have that all British people are aliens?

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* * *

 **PrussianKing** _1 hour ago_

omg, dis Al guy iz so funy, he play so cool games

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View all 16 replies ˅

 **AlfredtheHero** _1 hour ago_

GO BACK TO YOUR OWN CHANNEL, GILBERT!

Reply • 20 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **PrussianKing** _1 hour ago_

SAY THAT TO MY FACE, BITCH! I swear, kids today have no respect for their elders.

Reply • 17 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **AlfredtheHero** _1 hour ago_

:D I love you Gil

Reply • 16 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **PrussianKing** _58 minutes ago_

Love you too, babe. ;)

Reply • 15 • thumbs up / thumbs down

* * *

 **SomethingMoreQ** _2 hours ago_

Can we get more game commentary with Arthur's cat? Alfred, you're entertaining as always. And Arthur's hilarious and I'm going to subscribe to his channel. But that cat . . .

Reply • 5 • thumbs up / thumbs down

View all 4 replies ˅

 **PorcelanaRota** _2 hours ago_

I honestly wasn't expecting to hear that first meow. Everything's deadly quiet and then…."Mraaaw!" Made me jump.

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 **SomethingMoreQ** _2 hours ago_

It made me laugh more than anything. The way they included him in the conversation afterwards too, like they could understand him.

And at least Alfred doesn't have to stop for cat therapy with Arthur's cat there. :)

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* * *

 **wasabi cake** _3 hours ago_

How much you want to bet that people are going to write fanfictions of these two?

Reply • 18 • thumbs up / thumbs down

View all 21 replies ˅

 **LeFay Strent** _3 hours ago_

I will. I will do it. These two are too cute not to.

Reply • 4 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **Tirainy** _3 hours ago_

We need to come up with ship names.

Reply • 4 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **Iron Rose Writer** _3 hours ago_

How about "Titanic" since this ship is doomed to sink. Alfred lives in the US, and Arthur lives in the UK, both separated by an ocean. Their love wasn't meant to be from the start.

Reply • 2 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **Tirainy** _3 hours ago_

+Iron Rose Writer You couldn't let me dream, could you?

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* * *

 **Kaze1412** _52 minutes ago_

All of you are going, "I ship Alfred and Arthur!" And I'm here like, "I ship Alfred and the shotgun."

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View all 4 replies ˅

 **Polly Little** _37 minutes ago_

What if it's a love triangle, with the shotgun in the middle?

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 **Kaze1412** _25 minutes ago_

Or a love square, with the cat thrown somewhere in there.

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 **Annabelle Flynn** _16 minutes ago_

wtf is wrong with you people?

Reply • 1 • thumbs up / thumbs down

* * *

 **A Duck** _3 hours ago_

Quack

Reply • 17 • thumbs up / thumbs down

View all 6 replies ˅

 **Asky030** _29 minutes ago_

Same

Reply • 3 • thumbs up / thumbs down

* * *

 **RoseBadwolf1000** _1 hour ago_

ALFRED! IF YOU COULD BE ANY KIND OF POTATO DISH, WHAT WOULD YOU BE?

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View all 5 replies ˅

 **AlfredtheHero** _1 hour ago_

CURLY FRIES ALL THE WAY BRUH!

Reply • 12 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **Yantau** _1 hour ago_

+RoseBadwolf1000 asking the real questions

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* * *

 **Hollywoodling** _2 hours ago_

Alfred, you could avoid more monsters if you turned off the flashlight when they're around. They're attracted to the light!

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View all 8 replies ˅

 **Queen of Blue Hearts** _2 hours ago_

actually I think thats only with the mannequins (the four legged monsters?) plus its basically pitch black without the flashlight

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 **CiaoFromItaly** _1 hour ago_

Hard mode: turn flashlight off for the rest of the game. I dare you Alfred.

Reply • 2 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **Queen of Blue Hearts** _1 hour ago_

+CiaoFromItaly he would die, like a lot

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 **AlfredtheHero** _1 hour ago_

+CiaoFromItaly challenge accepted B)

Reply • 6 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **Queen of Blue Hearts** _1 hour ago_

+AlfredtheHero ALFRED BABY NO!

Reply • 2 • thumbs up / thumbs down

 **fishstick1999** _1 hour ago_

+AlfredtheHero We will remember you

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* * *

 **And that's that.**

 **Some of you might notice that most of the names I used above are reviewers from this story. Hope you guys don't mind. And if I didn't use you, sorry, but there are only so many comments I could think of to use names with.**

 **In light of the giving season, here, have a bonus scene that has nothing to do with the actual story.**

* * *

 **If Ivan was a youtuber**

Ivan holds a camera at arm's-length, directed towards himself to catch his smiling face.

"Hello friends! Today, I will show you another life hack," he chirps like a bird. Not like a small, cute bird though. More like a goose. A goose that fell into a radioactive lake and emerged three times too large. Not a nice superhero goose either. Never a nice goose. Villain, thy name is goose.

The goose continues to smile at the camera. In the background, you can see him walking through what looks to be his house. He passes down a hall and comes to a well-lit kitchen.

"To help me today," Ivan says, "I've invited my good friend Toris. He will help me demonstrate. Say hello to everyone, Toris."

The camera turns to capture a brunet man lying on a tiled floor. The man does not look happy to be there. In fact, there are tears in his eyes and he is clutching his leg in what appears to be agony. But who knows, maybe he's just a good actor.

"W-what are you doing, Ivan? I think my leg is broken. Oh—oh god, it hurts. Please take me to a hospital."

Okay, there might be something wrong here. But it's cool. It's fine. It's just a little broken bone. I'm sure things will turn out fine.

"But we haven't finished the video yet!" Ivan giggles. "Life does not hack itself, you know."

Well, the goose isn't wrong, but like hell anyone should trust him.

Poor Toris, crumbled on the floor, looks up with a smidge of hope lacing his strained voice. "This…is a joke, right? I seriously think my leg is broken. Please Ivan."

"Stay right there, I have just the thing," Ivan tells him, thus fueling that smidge of hope in Toris.

But like I said, you can't trust goose-people. They'll eat you.

The camera wobbles this way and that for a few moments as Ivan adjusts it. Apparently he brought a tripod along and has now set it up. A+ for being prepared, Ivan!

Confusion mixes in Toris's pained gaze. The camera is set up to catch a wide view of the poor man in the floor. His head turns to follow Ivan as he moves somewhere out-of-view of the camera. Footsteps can be heard walking away, then a door opening. Might be a closet. A closet filled with bad things. Not gonna lie Toris, but you should probably be crawling away. Like now. Put those noodle arms to use.

"Found it~" Ivan sings, and oh boy, have you ever heard a goose sing? Terrifying.

Toris's eyes widen in panic at what he sees coming towards him. His heart must be fluttering as fast as hummingbird wings. The little hummingbird looks up at the radioactive goose that's about to devour him whole.

Ivan, hovering over Toris, ignores his horror completely and turns to smile once more at the camera. With a sledgehammer. There is most definitely a sledgehammer in his hands right now. Which makes the "goose devours hummingbird whole" analogy from the last paragraph kinda confusing, if Ivan's going to break his food apart before he eats it. Ivan, buddy, work with me here.

"Life hack!" Ivan grins, waving around the oversized hammer and totally not working with me. "If you have a broken leg, break the other leg too. That way the pain is symmetrical."

The hammer goes up, and before Toris can get a word of protest out, the heavy metal comes crashing down on his good leg. Now bad leg. It's hella broke now. I don't blame you for screaming your lungs out, Tory.

Amid the screams, Ivan looks at the camera again, expression satisfied.

And the moral of the story kids is that you should run for your life if you ever see a goose.

* * *

 **I don't believe Ivan knows what life hacks are supposed to be.**


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur stepped outside into the crisp, autumn morning. A dense wave of clouds moved like lumbering beasts in the sky. They promised hefty showers by afternoon. For now, nary a drop fell, and Arthur locked up his house with a pleased hum. He wouldn't have to worry about getting wet during his walk to the Tube.

He turned to see that his neighbor Berwald was bustling about as well, coming up the sidewalk to return to his home. Arthur would have liked to head on to work without a word, but he made the mistake of meeting that frigid gaze.

"Arthur," he rumbled lowly in greeting. The houses were situated so closely that Arthur had no trouble hearing the man. And he would have returned the greeting, if only to be polite (the memory of their last talk lingered uncomfortably in his mind), but there was something . . . curious.

"Good . . . morning," Arthur said carefully, eyeing the bright pink leash in Berwald's hand. The end of the leash attached to a tiny white cloud.

" _Brff_ ," the cloud barked at him.

It was a dog. Berwald, the neighborhood Viking who crafted glass figurines and enforced well-intentioned romantic interventions, had a small, fluffy dog.

Arthur considered it bad form to laugh, seeing as he himself had a fondness for stuffed animals and indulged in needlework.

It was just so . . . _small_ compared to Berwald. The dog was smaller than Jasper even!

No Arthur, keep it together. Gentlemen do _not_ snicker at their neighbors.

Berwald nodded towards the dog, which sat scratching at one folded ear. "My dog," he said needlessly. "Just adopted him recently."

"Oh?" That would explain why Arthur had seen no sign of the pup during his visit.

"Thought it might help," Berwald confided, looking terribly serious. It took Arthur a moment to understand.

Berwald had taken what Arthur said about his intimidating image so personally that he went out to find the most unthreatening pet to counteract it.

"His name's Hanatamago," Berwald added.

Arthur wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask questions. He wanted to walk away. In the end, he croaked something about that being a fine name and let the moment pass entirely. Berwald nodded with a distinct air of pride and disappeared into his home.

What a peculiar way to start the morning. He should go to work before anything else strange happened. But blast all, he probably should have asked Berwald if his new dog was friendly with other animals. It wouldn't do for Jasper to be chased around if Hanatommy-something ran off its leash. Then again, maybe he should be more worried for the dog, since Jasper tended to get riled up around other animals. He might have to warn Berwald later—

" _Bonjour_ Arthur!"

Arthur took off in a mad dash that would make an Olympic racer proud. Too bad Francis knew him too well and quickly grabbed him by the back of his jacket.

"Let go of me, you arse!"

"No, I think not. Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me."

"As if I need a reason to avoid your ugly mug.

"Your words hurt me deep, like a paper cut."

"I _will_ hurt you if you don't let go."

"So prone to violence. I could show you a way to vent that anger in a way that would be pleasurable for the both of us~"

"Shut up and—KEEP YOUR HANDS AWAY FROM MY TROUSERS!"

Fists really might have flown if the two of them hadn't felt an ominous aura assailing them. They froze where they stood grappling each other and, as one, they slowly looked towards Berwald's house, which they stood directly in front of. Icy blue eyes glared at them from between the cracked door.

A vivid memory of Arthur's visit to Berwald's home flashed in his mind. Arthur had cleared up the misunderstanding before, but damn it, Francis was going to make him think Arthur had been lying!

Arthur shoved Francis away (unfortunately, not resulting in him tripping over the curb and getting run over by a passing vehicle). He had to create distance and preserve his dignity!

"This isn't what you think, I assure you," Arthur called to Berwald, laughing nervously.

"Isn't that what unfaithful lovers say when they get caught cheating?"

"Belt up, Francis!"

"Good morning, Berwald!" Francis greeted. He smiled amicably and threw an arm over Arthur's shoulder like they were good friends. Arthur elbowed him in the side and felt a deep satisfaction at Francis's pained grunt. He continued with a strained grin, "What a wonderful surprise to see you here."

They could just make out Berwald's short reply of, "I live here."

"Yes, yes, of course!" Francis said, acting like he wasn't stupid, and Arthur wanted to hit him.

Berwald's glare turned wary before he slid the door shut.

Francis breathed out in relief. "How many bodies do you think are hidden under his floorboards?"

"Come off it, he's not . . . _that_ . . . bad."

Both of Francis's brows shot up at Arthur defending Berwald. "I saw the devil in his eyes. Were you not looking at the same man I was?"

"He can't help the way he looks. I'm sure he's a decent bloke once you get to know him. Why last week he invited me over for coffee."

Francis could not have been more appalled. "And you went?"

"I did."

"And you lived?"

"No Francis, he bashed my head in right and good. Don't mind my seemingly corporeal self standing before you."

Something dawned on Francis, and by the way his expression lit up, Arthur knew he wouldn't like it one bit. "Is this why you've been avoiding me? Have you been flirting with danger?"

"Good God, man, do you ever shut up?" Arthur groused. He pushed away from Francis and went to resume his daily route. Francis followed right beside him, undeterred as always.

"Arthur, my dear friend, tell me truly. Have I done something to offend you?"

"Your existence offends me."

Francis waved away the familiar insult. "Besides that. You haven't come by to eat dinner with me in over a week."

"Not unusual."

"Nor have you answered my texts or calls."

"Also not unusual."

"And when I came over the other day, you so rudely tossed me out."

"You broke into my house, you twat!"

"It is not breaking if the door was unlocked."

Arthur scoffed, "That'll hold up in court."

"Why is it that I get the feeling you're not telling me something?"

Arthur continued to look straight ahead and didn't dare look towards Francis. "Must be your imagination. Or maybe feeling a bit touched? If you're experiencing these grandiose delusions, I can direct you to some excellent doctors."

"Oh? The ones who treat you?"

Arthur would have responded by kicking the bastard's shin, but his phone chimed then. He whipped it out a bit too fast to check his newest message.

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"What side of a duck has feathers? . . . .the outside!"_

The joke was incredibly lame which was what made Arthur chuckle and type in a response. He only realized that Francis was watching him suspiciously after he had finished replying.

"And just who was that you were messaging?"

Arthur cursed internally. "No one. My brother. Leave me alone."

"That wasn't your brother. You were smiling. You don't smile like that at your brothers."

"You don't know me."

"Oh, but I do! And more importantly, I know exactly what type of smile you were smiling."

"No you don't. Stop talking."

"So how did you meet them? How many dates have you went on?"

Why did it sound like Francis was channeling his mother?

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around asking me about my personal life?"

"At the moment, no. Consider yourself lucky that you are honored with my presence."

"I feel something but it's not honor."

"Don't be this way, Arthur. Tell me all about them. Is it a woman? A man? However did someone as brutish as you gain their favor? Or are you still trying? Oh, I can help you! I am a well of romance. Feel free to drink from me."

"I would rather die! And besides! . . ." Arthur stopped and stared down at the sidewalk. "It's . . . not like that."

Arthur thought everything would be said and done once their collaboration ended last week. They made the video, it had been posted, and what else was there to continue? Arthur reminded himself that it had been business, or friendly business, if he was feeling optimistic. Alfred and he had a good time. And judging by the comments on the video, many people enjoyed the outcome (there were plenty of . . . _negative_ comments on Arthur's behalf, but that wouldn't sully the experience!). Arthur could be satisfied with that.

But then, Alfred messaged him. Just some friendly words to thank Arthur for collaborating and to talk about the viewers' reactions to them. Nothing to get that excited about.

Except, Alfred kept messaging . . .

And he hadn't stopped. From lame jokes to daily musings, it was almost like . . . Alfred wanted to be friends.

Arthur wanted to be skeptical, but Alfred kept making him smile and hope . . .

"I see," Francis said, sounding remarkably solemn. He placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder, beckoning him to look up into his light blue eyes. "Unrequited love can be a heavy burden to carry. I should know. I have broken many hearts."

Arthur gave him a withering glare. "And just when I thought you would say something useful."

Francis smirked, patted his shoulder twice, and stepped away. "If you do need someone to talk to, I am but a house away. Have a nice day, Arthur." He waved and began the trek back home.

"As if," Arthur huffed to himself. Francis was just being dramatic as usual. It's not as if Arthur was suffering from some devastating problem. There was a man he fancied, a man who might at least want to be friends with him. It was a good thing, a sign that things were looking up in his life.

"By the way, Arthur!" He looked back to see that Francis had stopped some meters away, before he got too far. "I wanted to ask you if you noticed anything strange about my house."

Oh no.

"Strange?" Arthur returned, the picture of oblivious.

"Yes. Sometime last week, I returned home to find a window open and a vase of mine broken on the floor. I was wondering if you had seen something about that?"

Arthur tried desperately to hide his expression as he answered back in a choked voice, "I don't know Francis. Maybe it was a . . . _cat burglar_."

"Ah, but nothing was stolen."

"I'm sorry, Francis. I don't know anything. I really must be going now. Goodbye!"

This time, Arthur escaped before Francis could stop him.

* * *

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"What side of a duck has feathers? . . . .the outside!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"A duck has no feathers if you're eating it."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Hey! No eating the animals in my jokes!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Why not? I'm feeling a bit peckish."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Dude, was that a bird pun?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You totally did! Tell me another please!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"No, let's end this before things get hawkward."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Omg, I'm cackling, can't breathe."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Sorry, I didn't mean to be such a birden on you."_

* * *

Alfred was overwhelmed.

On the kitchen tile he lay, holding himself as his body wracked with laughter. Here he thought he was the master of jokes. And here he had been outmatched by a true pun master.

"I can't. Just— _ha!_ —give me a minute," he laughed at his phone as if Arthur could hear him. What would Arthur say if he could see him right now? What would his face look like? Alfred bet all of his video games that Arthur had a smirk on his face this very moment, so proud of his punny accomplishments. It made Alfred giggle more, and through his euphoria, he swore he was starting to hallucinate Matthew standing over him in flannel pajamas.

"Alfred," the very tired hallucination said. "It's one in the morning. What are you doing?"

"O-oh Matt! I— _heh_ —I didn't mean to bother you this late. I guess you could— _ha!_ —could say I'm a bit of a _night owl_! HAHAHAHA!"

The hallucination was not pleased. He didn't yell at Alfred, rather he stepped away to swipe up a couch pillow. He came back to gently press it over his brother's loud face-hole.

Funny, it was almost like Matthew was _actually_ smothering him.

"Can't . . . _breathe!_ " Alfred grunted. He pushed the villainous cushion away and took in a big gulp of sweet air. "Geez Mattie, if you didn't like my puns, all you had to do was say so."

"I have said so. Many times before. But you have selective hearing. I think you get it from Mom. Me and Dad can tell you both 'no' all we want, but all you guys hear is 'yes'. If you hear us at all, that is."

"Huh? What'd you say?" Alfred looked up from where he now sat cross-legged on the floor, gorging himself on a bag of donut holes. "I got them from that new shop down the street. Want some?"

Matthew sunk down to the floor in defeat. "I don't know why I bother."

"…donut?" Alfred asked, holding one of the tasty confections out to his twin. He pressed it against the corner of Matthew's mouth, tapping him over and over. "Donut? Donut?"

"Donut," Matthew sighed in agreement and opened his mouth to take the prize.

* * *

 **Don't believe Arthur. Him and Francis are better friends than he lets on. I also headcanon that Arthur loves lame jokes, especially puns. More so when he's the one telling them. Most of the time if you try to tell him one, he'll probably think it's funny but try not to laugh. It's also funny, Arthur and Alfred messaging each other, because I didn't realize I had written that first bird pun, where Arthur said he was feeling peckish. It wasn't on purpose, nor do I think Arthur meant for it to be, but we both ran with it. :)**

 **I HAVE NEWS! An awesome reviewer, SomethingMoreQ, was inspired by last chapter's bonus scene so much that they drew fanart of goose Russia! Like, Ivan as an honest to god goose. It's beautiful. Please go check it out! Just google "JasperSompher deviantart" and you should find their deviantart profile.**

 **Speaking of bonus scenes, I don't have one this time. I'm hella tried, ya feel? So I'm gonna pass this time around.**

… **ya know what? I'll do it. I will write it right now regardless of sleep deprivation. Just watch me.**

* * *

Berwald had only intended to get a dog.

"W-what can I do for you today, sir?" an angel asked him.

He didn't mean to fall in love.

Berwald didn't know that angels of the lord worked in animal shelters, but here one was, large violet-like eyes peering up at him, a sweet smile blessing that round face, and body shaking in excitement at the chance to find a loving home for a pet.

Yes, that's why the angel shook.

Berwald momentarily forgot what he came there for.

The angel glanced away, probably just feeling shy, and brushed his blond bangs out of his eyes. Berwald knew that if he could watch this ethereal being until the end of his days, he would die a happy man.

Another worker entered the lobby from a glass door behind the front desk. This man was blond as well, though he wasn't nearly as beautiful. The angel sent him a look and his fellow employee hurried over beside him.

"Anything I can help you with?" the newcomer asked, putting on a practiced smile. He wore glasses and the same dark blue polo that the angel wore.

Disgruntled by the interruption, Berwald pointed at the angel, "He was helpin' me first."

Violet eyes widened. No doubt the angel was surprised and grateful at Berwald pointing out how this man had interrupted them.

"Y-yes," the angel stammered. "I asked what I could help you with?"

"A dog," Berwald answered straight to the point. It was better than blurting out a marriage proposal. "I need a dog."

"What kind of dog are you looking for?" his angel responded.

"Somethin' cute." Berwald had a weakness for small, cute things. Like the angel before him.

"Oh? Okay. That's good," the little blond said. "Um, if you'd like, Eduard can show you to the kennel so you can—"

"I'd like you to take me," Berwald said.

The angel let out a little squeak and Berwald's eyes narrowed slightly at the reaction. It occurred to him that this might not be his specific job. It made sense that the shelter would want an angel to man the counter with his wonderful customer-service skills. What if he got in trouble if he left his post?

"If ya can," Berwald amended, glancing down embarrassed. He didn't want to ask too much of one of God's holy servants. "Don't want to trouble you."

"Oh. Um . . ." the angel began. Berwald glanced back up hopefully. "Well then. I suppose . . . Eduard, I guess I can take him. Would you mind staying out here for me?"

"You sure, Tino?" this Eduard man had the nerve to question.

Oh, but Tino? His angel's name was Tino? Berwald wanted to say it. Many times. Maybe sigh it occasionally while staring up at the clouds and picking flowers. He should pick some flowers for Tino.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Tino assured his coworker. He stepped around the counter and beckoned for Berwald to follow him through a different door. Berwald followed him unquestioningly.

"Sooo. What made you decide you wanted a dog?" Tino asked. Berwald must have looked at him a bit too sharply because Tino amended, "Not that you have to answer! Just making conversation! Don't mind me!"

He was so thoughtful, not wanting to be bothersome. Just what Berwald would expect from an angel. But Berwald wouldn't mind if Tino asked him any question. He would answer without hesitation.

"I thought it might help," Berwald answered honestly. At Tino's blinking stare, Berwald elaborated, "My neighbor told me that I can be . . . intimidating. I don't mean to be. So I thought a dog would help."

"So you . . . you wanted a cute . . ." Tino said to himself, as if understanding something. He stopped as they reached the end of the hallway they traveled. They stood outside the door leading to the kennel. Barking echoed from inside. Tino didn't make a move to open the door yet.

"Something wrong?" Berwald asked, worried he might have said something. He wasn't the best at social situations.

"Oh! Oh, no! Not at all!" Tino rushed to say. He seemed brighter than before now, the way he looked up at Berwald. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"S'okay," Berwald said, though he didn't know why the angel was apologizing.

"That's actually really sweet," Tino said, giggling softly as he somehow smiled with his eyes.

Berwald felt his heart literally crush in his chest with the urge to reach out and hug the smaller man. He needed to hold and protect something so precious.

"Alright, let's go get you a puppy," Tino said.

They walked down an aisle, pens running down the length on either side. Many of them were occupied with dogs, dog beds, toys, and food and water dishes. Another employee was busy going to each of them to feed them.

"If you're looking for something small, we have a couple of corgis. Or maybe a terrier? We've got mixed breeds of course, so some you can't really tell, but they're all still very cute."

Berwald let Tino take him around to different pens, giving him a chance to pet the dogs. Most were eager for attention, though some did shy away. Tino told him not to be discouraged because some of them were slow to warm up to people due to poor treatment from previous owners.

"It really breaks my heart, what some people could do to these sweet babies," Tino told him, looking through a cage door at a spaniel huddled in a corner. The white and brown dog had a cast on its front leg and watched them warily.

Berwald couldn't bear to see Tino looking so sad. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "They have you now. I bet they're happy."

Tino didn't look sad anymore. In fact he appeared taken aback, mouth slightly open.

Then he let out a little laugh. "Thank you, but I'm sure the free food and roof over their heads are what really matters."

"No. You care. That matters a lot."

Tino plucked at the front of his shirt, not looking at him. "W-well, how about we see a few more? Oh, I know! We got a new puppy the other day. Someone found the poor guy in the trash. But he's so friendly! Over here, see him? Isn't he adorable? I kinda named him already—temporarily of course—and I've been calling him Hanatamago because I think it fits him. But isn't he cute?"

Berwald could sit around and listen to Tino gush all day. But he remembered that he did indeed come here today to adopt a dog. So he wrote up the paperwork Tino gave him and listened to all of his caregiving instructions. By the time Berwald was finally able to bring Hanatamago home, he had decided something.

"I need to get another dog."

* * *

 **And so Berwald will return back to the shelter. After about twenty adoptions, Tino may start to realize that it's more than the dogs Berwald keeps coming back for.**

 **I can't believe I just spent two extra hours writing SuFin. Those babies are worth it though.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Heads up! Denmark and Norway are in this chapter, and since they don't have set names, I want to clarify who is who.**

 **Denmark – Mathias**

 **Norway – Lukas**

 **Okay, carry on my wayward sons!**

* * *

"Anybody got some pills? I could go for some pills right about now."

"Gilbert, you can't expect us to keep enabling your addiction. This has to stop."

"Screw you, Mathias. Lukas, buddy, I know you have some. Wanna help a dying brother out?"

"Depends. What are you willing to do for me in exchange?"

"I'll shoot Mathias in the face. How's that sound?"

"Hey! I don't like this plan!"

"I like this plan very much. Here are your pills."

"Pleasure doing business with you," Gilbert said and turned his shotgun to shoot Mathias in the back.

Alfred listened to his friends with a grin on his face. They were playing _Left 4 Dead 2_ , yet another zombie apocalypse game, because nothing was better than murdering things that were already dead.

Unless you were Lukas, that is.

"Why do you get some kind of sick satisfaction from watching my pain?" Mathias whined at Lukas.

"Instinct mostly."

"Heads up, guys! Tank!" Alfred warned the others.

It wasn't an actual military vehicle so much as a giant, boulder of a man that barreled down the ruined corridor they were currently in. Lukas ducked into an office in the nick of time, leaving the monster to push Mathias off the side of the building where the wall had been torn apart. Mathias's character hung by his hands several stories in the air.

"Ah hell, I fell," Mathias groaned. "Can someone help me up?"

"Or we can leave Mathias as bait and make a run for it," Lukas suggested.

"No man left behind!" Alfred roared and charged the beast, firing away with an assault rifle. Gilbert joined the fray with a Molotov cocktail. The beast caught aflame, and once Lukas aided them, the giant succumbed and moved no more.

"Double-tap," Gilbert said and shot the tank's head one last time.

Alfred shook his head at the burnt creature. "Shoulda stopped, dropped, and rolled."

"He really should have."

"Um, guys? Still hanging off the side of a building here."

"I'm sorry, Mathias, I couldn't hear you over my _pill addiction_."

"What the fuck, Gilbert. That doesn't even make sense!"

"Your mom doesn't make sense! Hahahaha!"

"Whatever. Alfred? Get me up buddy?"

"Hold on, I'm getting ammo. Lukas, get 'em up."

Lukas turned away from them all and walked down the corridor while muttering something about, "See no evil, hear no evil."

"I'm going to haunt all of you after I fall to my death," Mathias swore.

Just then, Lukas came sprinting back, chased by another tank followed by a swarm of zombies.

"Shit, we just killed one!" Gilbert yelled and was promptly pummeled by the creature's oversized arms. "It's about to down me—fuuuuuck."

Alfred scrambled to help, but they didn't have another Molotov or anything else to help out, and through some unlucky maneuvering, the tank downed all of them. All of their characters lay on the ground bleeding out. They weakly tried to fight off the horde with pistols, but alas, there was no one to pick them up when they were down.

"Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!" Alfred cried as too many infected surrounded him, munching on his tasty bod.

"Gee, if only there had been someone else to help you guys," Mathias said in a wry tone only to let his anger seep through. " _Oh wait!_ There _was_ but nooooo. You guys couldn't be bothered to get me up."

"I'd rather die," Lukas said, to which Gilbert pointed out that he was already dying. Lukas sounded pleased. "Oh good, that means I don't have to hear his whining anymore."

"I would have helped you, Mathias!" Alfred promised dramatically, too immersed in shooting the zombies that ate away at the last vestiges of his health bar. "Remember me fondly in the next life! Aaaaaaahhhh—urkkururkrakuraruruuughghghghhhh . . . I am dead."

"So, we calling it quits here?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah, I think we're good," Alfred agreed. "Unless you guys were up to something else?"

"Nah, me and Lukas have a D&D session to get to," Mathias said. For all that the two of them seemed to rag on each other, Mathias and Lukas were good friends who did a lot of gaming together.

"Oh yeah? Is it fun?" Alfred asked, somewhat curious. "I've never really joined a game myself."

"Yeah, Lukas is the DM. He's great at it. He even put Elvis in the plot!"

Before either Alfred or Gilbert could question that, Lukas added, "A character token looks like Elvis. Elvis is not actually running around in our fantasy kingdom setting."

"It's totally Elvis," Mathias denied and Lukas sighed heavily into his microphone in a way that said he'd fought this battle many times.

"Is he a bard?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes! That's why he has to be Elvis!"

"What's a bard again?" Alfred asked.

"They can play music and whatnot to cast spells."

"Ohhhhh, I get it!"

"Mathias, we're leaving," Lukas declared and left the call.

"Oh, okay. Catch you guys later!"

After they were gone, Alfred metaphorically turned to Gilbert. "So, you D&D, Gil?"

"A couple of times. I was a bard in one campaign. Ended up losing my flute because I stabbed it in the eye of a hobgoblin."

"Isn't that kind of harsh?"

"No, because the asshole was racist and killed my elven girlfriend. All's fair in love and D&D."

"Huh," Alfred hummed thoughtfully. He leaned back in his chair a little, glancing nearby where a line of bobble-head Avengers stood on his desk. He poked at Thor's head while he mused about D&D. He had always thought it was a lame game, but maybe he'd have to look into it. Gilbert and them made it sound fun.

"So, what's up with you and that cat guy playing _Silent Hill_ together?" Gilbert asked.

"His _name_ is Arthur," Alfred replied automatically, too used to this familiar argument with his brother. Then he realized what Gilbert said. "Wait, how'd you know he was in one of my _Silent Hill_ videos?"

"Alfred, I literally commented on that video. You responded. We had a whole correspondence going on."

"Oh, that's right," Alfred chuckled at himself. "Yeah, I forgot."

"I noticed."

"Why were you watching anyway?"

"I was taking a shit and thought of you."

"Aww, thank you. Do you always watch my videos when you're having bowel movements?"

"Only when I'm really constipated. Your voice is a great laxative."

"Mm, this is gross. We're really gross."

"We're men. We're supposed to be gross."

"Yeah! Ten seconds in the shower is all we really need! So people—like my brother—should stop complaining."

"Yeeeah, no, I'm going to assume you're not serious because I draw the line there."

Alfred laughed and asked him what he thought of Arthur. He knew his own opinion of Arthur, and if he asked Matthew his twin would only shrug. He wanted to know what his friend thought of the British vlogger."

"Arthur seems cool. Smarter than you at least." Gilbert ignored Alfred's offended, "Not cool, dude," and continued, "You should get him to play with us sometime."

Alfred blew out a breath. "I would, but Arthur's not really a gamer. He really only does vlogging."

"About his cat, yeah, I checked him out. What kind of nerd names their cat, Jasper?"

"I will fight you in Jasper's honor."

* * *

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Bath or shower?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Baths when I want to relax. Showers when I'm in a hurry."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Summer or Winter?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Spring."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"That wasn't an option!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"It should have been. You shouldn't limit yourself like that, mate."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"lol, why Spring tho? You like all the flowers?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Yes, besides that, the temperature is pleasant."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Coffee or tea? Oh wait, you're British!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I'll have you know that I do actually drink coffee on occasion."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Really?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"On rare occasions. When I'm incredibly sleep deprived and have poor taste."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You like it~ admit it."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I will do no such thing. Next question."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Cats or dogs?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Alfred, what animal do I live with?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"A llama."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"So you've seen through Jasper's disguise, oh darn."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I was suspicious from the start! You can't fool me!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Your detective skills are impeccable. Truly you have missed a great career opportunity."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You could be the Watson to my Sherlock."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I have never heard a more tempting offer. Please do go on."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Jasper could be our Scooby."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I don't believe Scooby-Doo was one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's characters."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"He was there, always waiting in the wings, just a bork away in the night."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Obviously I haven't read as closely as you have."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Obviously. So, city or rural area?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Both have their charms, but I live in a city."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Same here. What would you do if you only had 24 hours left to live?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I suppose you want me to be honest."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"That would be preferable, yes."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I would drink my weight in alcohol."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Seriously? No spending it with your family? Or go somewhere you've always wanted? Or try to make a mark on the world one last time?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"If I only have a few hours left to live, I don't want to be sober. My family would understand. As for making my mark on the world, I'm sure I would come up with something rash in my last drunken moments."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Like what?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Do I really have to come up with something?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You brought it up!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"All right, fine! Something like . . . go streaking around Buckinham Palace, I don't know."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Dude, seriously?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I would be extremely inebriated in this scenario, so yes. I wouldn't put it past me."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Would you be screaming 'God save the Queen!' while you did it?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Possibly."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Arthur, you're kinda hardcore."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Most would think that to be improper or at best annoying. Not hardcore."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You're a baller. You should vlog while drunk sometime."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Who says I haven't?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You have?! Where? I wanna watch it!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Why are you getting so excited?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Because drunk you sounds awesome and not like your usual self!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"This is the part where I would hang up on you if this were not messaging."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"What? Why?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Because I don't like to listen to people insult me?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"What? I didn't insult you."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Yes you did!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"OH MY GOD I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Then how did you mean it?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You're really awesome! But you have other awesome sides that I haven't seen yet! Which is awesome!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Idiot."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I don't hate you. Just think before you type."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You're really cool. I promise. ;)"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"All right, all right. I forgive you."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Does that mean you'll let me see your drunk vlogs?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I may have posted a couple on Youtube before . . ."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Which ones? Tell me!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Sorry, but it looks like you'll have to find them yourself."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"No fair!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _":)"_

* * *

Alfred wanted to pout. He wanted to whine and act upset until he got his way. He wanted to let Arthur know just how displeased he was.

But with a simple smiley face, he was undone.

Now he pranced around his apartment wearing the goofiest smile, twirling this way and that, completely unashamed with no one around to watch him. He skated his socked feet across the kitchen tiles. He moonwalked over the carpet. He hugged the television like it was an old friend just because he could. So high on life was he, he belted out song lyrics passionately.

"Like a river floooows~ Surely to the seaaaa~ Darling, so it goooesss~ Some thiiiiings are meant to beeeee~"

The door opened, signaling Matthew's return home. Alfred kept singing and dancing regardless of Matthew standing there staring with a blank face.

"I have questions," his brother said.

"Taaaaaake myyyy hand~"

"Why are you singing Elvis Presley?"

"Take my whooooole liiiife, toooooo~"

"And why are you wearing a shark costume?"

"For IIIII caaaaan't heeeeelp~"

"No seriously, where did you get a shark costume?"

"Faaaaalling in loooooove wiiiiith youuuuuuu~"

"Ah—Alfred, no, let me go! I don't want to dance!"

Alfred spun Matthew around the living room, the move made slightly awkward with Alfred's costume getting in the way. But sometimes ya just gotta dance even if you're tripping over your own fins.

"Mattie! I'm in love!" Alfred confessed loudly, hugging Matthew.

Matthew, with his face smooshed against Alfred's chest, told him, "Al, you're not in love."

"I am too!"

"You are not."

"Okay, I'm in like. Same thing basically."

"So you bought a shark costume?"

"Eh, it was on sale. I got one for you too!"

Matthew squirmed in his hold to level a look at him. "And you thought we would need them because . . .?"

"For shark week, duh."

"It's not shark week though, not even close."

"It's shark week every week if you try hard enough."

Alfred could see Matthew visibly lose his will to live. Alfred always felt accomplished when he achieved these moments.

"Are you, like, done?" a voice asked from the still-open doorway.

Alfred glanced up to see a blond guy holding his phone up like he had recorded everything. He felt excitement at recognizing who it was. "Feliks! What's up, dude?"

Matthew eyed Feliks knowingly. "Please don't post that anywhere."

"Shush," Feliks said playfully, but tucked his phone in his pocket. "You look super cute as a shark, by the way Al. You should get Matt to dress up with you so I can take pictures."

"Don't give him ideas!" Matthew hissed to which Feliks laughed away his concern.

"I like the way you think," Alfred said, throwing a finny arm around his brother. Matthew just accepted it. "So whatchya doing here? Did ya miss my epic self?"

"Of course," Feliks said, smiling and inviting himself in to hug Alfred. "I'm kinda sad about this costume though. It's cute, but it hides your thighs. And you know I love your thighs. You could, like, crush my head with your thighs, and that's really hot."

Alfred laughed. "You're a really weird guy." Despite how weird Feliks was, the brothers had been friends with him ever since they first started college. Alfred thought he was a shy person at first, but boy did Feliks open up once you got to know him.

"Says the cutie in the shark costume," Feliks fired back, tapping Alfred's nose teasingly.

He stepped away to go rummage through their kitchen. Feliks liked to live by a "what's yours is mine" mentality when he decided you were his friend, so he helped himself to their food. Matthew followed after him to get something to eat, no doubt hungry after spending hours in classes.

"So you totally have to tell me about this person you're in like with," Feliks said, pulling out a box of s'mores pop-tarts.

"He's talking about the cat guy," Matthew said dismissively.

"His _name_ is _Arthur_ ,"Alfred frowned. He quickly perked up again and came over to lean against the counter by Feliks. He shoved his phone at him. "Look at this! He sent me a smiley face."

"Awww, oh my gosh," Feliks cooed, holding the phone and skimming the messages. "What were you talking about? 'Sorry, but it looks like you'll have to find them yourself'? Are you getting naughty, Alfie?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Uh, hello? Sexting? You were, weren't you?"

Alfred snatched his phone back, face heating up. "N-no! Don't make things dirty, Feliks! We've just been talking! Arthur's like, a gentleman or whatever. He's British anyway, and Brits are prudes, so he probably would never . . ."

"Generalizations are dangerous," Matthew said from over by the fridge, but no one was paying attention to him.

"So what's he like?" Feliks asked, digging into his pop-tart. He hardly bothered to cover his mouth as he talked. "When did you meet? How long you been talking? Is he gay? Omg, what if he, like, misunderstood your intentions or whatever and this ends up being all tragic?"

"I, uh, it's not _really_ like that," Alfred admitted, fiddling with his phone. "I—I don't know if he'd dig me, but we've just been talking anyway. Just as friends, I guess. Which is fine! I'm cool with that! He's cool, ya know? And I just want to get to know more about him and talk to him and listen to him and make him smile and stuff."

"You sound like you've got it bad," Feliks said with a little smirk on his face. "You got pics?"

After that, the trio found themselves on the living room couch, Alfred showing Feliks some of Arthur's vlogs.

"His brows are so thick. I want to get my hands on them so bad. The things I would do to them . . ." Feliks vowed.

"I wanna pet 'em," Alfred said.

Matthew watched them warily from aside but refrained from commenting.

"Is it just me, or does his cat, like, look like him?" Feliks asked.

"I know, right? I think it's the eyes."

"They have the exact same facial expressions sometimes."

"The kind like, 'I'm silently judging you'?"

"Yeah! Like that!"

"It's pretty cute though. And Arthur's really nice. And sassy. He's like a cat in human form."

"Mm-hm. You guys would look cute together. Shame about the whole ocean thing between you."

Matthew began looking for something to watch on TV. This was when he was finally noticed by Feliks who told him to put _Legally Blonde_ on.

"Really?" Matthew asked.

Feliks raised a thin brow. "Are you telling me you _don't_ want to watch _Legally Blonde_?"

Matthew wisely put the movie on.

"That's what I thought. Don't tell me you don't want to watch Elle Woods, 'cause she is goals," Feliks said, referring to the main character of the movie. "She's, like, literally me."

"You would study incredibly hard to get into an elite university to impress a guy who's not even worth your time," Matthew asked skeptically.

" _Yes_ , except Toris was worth my time," Feliks mentioned his childhood friend. "I wasn't about to let Toris go off to college without me. He'd cry and junk if I wasn't with him. So you know I graduated high school a year early so I could go to college with him."

"You know," Alfred said, "I always forget that you're really smart."

"Thirty-two ACT score, bitches!" Feliks cheered. "If Elle Woods can beat stereotypes, then so can I!"

"That's impressive," Matthew commented, smiling a little. "That you're dedicated to your best friend enough to do that."

"I had to keep him around. This story has too many blonde people."

For a moment, Matthew's face tensed in something akin to horror. "W-what do you mean?"

Feliks waved his confusion away. "The story of my life, duh. Like, blonde people are the best, but variety is the spice of life or whatever. That's why God made everybody look different. Except you two. I still can't tell the difference until, like, one of you opens your mouth."

"Oh. Heh," Matthew chuckled and relaxed.

"It's easy to tell us apart," Alfred told Feliks. "I'm the handsomer one."

"Alfred, we look exactly the same. Though I guess our hair styles are slightly different."

"Nah, you've got this look about your face."

"What look?"

"Like a baby moose whose parents just got poached."

Matthew looked at him all affronted like.

Alfred snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "Yeah, like that!" He laughed as Matthew readied a pillow to throw.

"Boys, chill," Feliks said from between them. "I will put you in the corner."

Matthew redirected the pillow to his own face. His voice came out muffled, "Feliks, you're not our mom."

"I am squad mom. I am the big matriarch. You are my children."

"For someone who has adult children, you look really young," Alfred complimented.

Feliks beamed. "Thanks! I, like, moisturize! Anybody wanna feel my legs? I just shaved."

"No thanks," both Alfred and Matthew said in sync.

"Rude," Feliks huffed. "This is why you're both single."

"Matt's not," Alfred corrected, to which Matthew sent a warning glare. Alfred ignored it. "He's been dating our neighbor."

" _What_? And you didn't _tell_ me?" Feliks asked, scandalized.

"It's _not_ dating," Matthew denied, waving his hands like he could physically stop this conversation from happening. "He keeps bothering me and kidnapping me."

"So it's a guy?" Feliks said excitedly.

"Did you just miss the 'kidnapping' part?"

"You know, Mattie, if you want me to . . ." Alfred began, but Matthew talked over him.

"For the last time, Al, I'm not going to sic you on our neighbor. This is my problem, and you'd just make it worse anyway."

Alfred gaped at him. How could his own brother be so cruel? "How would I make things worse?"

"You'd get into a fistfight with him."

"How would that make things worse? I'd be defending your honor!"

"I can defend my own honor!" Matthew shouted, which for him was more like talking at room volume. Or was that temperature?

Feliks pushed at both of their faces impatiently. "Seriously, shut up and, like, start talking. I want to know all the details. Is this why you've been so moody lately, Matt?"

"I haven't been moody." Matthew sulked.

Feliks scoffed. "You've been bi-polar as fuck. And don't tell me it's been because of, like, school and junk. Momma knows."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "You're making a mountain out of a molehill. It's just our neighbor Ivan being strange. He's started trying to talk to me every time we pass in the hallway or the parking lot, or he drags me out to eat. Without ever really asking, might I add! He thinks he can just push and get his way, and one of these days! One of these days I swear I'll give him the what-for!"

"I could—"

"No Alfred! Me! It will be _me_ who gives it to him! You're not the one who had to buy expensive steaks!"

Alfred slouched back into the couch, arms crossed. "Fine then. I try to be a good brother and what do I get? I get snapped at. Thanks bro."

Matthew quieted at that. He played with the pillow in his lap, tugging on the fabric. With his usual soft timbre, he spoke, "You are a good brother, Al. I just . . . want to deal with this myself. You always try to come in and solve stuff for me like that. I'm not helpless."

Things were silent for a minute, save for the TV playing, but no one paid attention to the movie, not even Feliks. He was watching Alfred, his green eyes narrowed.

Not one to keep quiet for long, Feliks prompted Alfred, "Well?"

"Well what?" he shot back.

Feliks elbowed him. "Aren't you going to, like, say something to your brother?"

Alfred glowered for a moment before looking over to Matthew, who sat staring down at the pillow. He bit his cheek before saying, "You're not helpless, Matt."

His twin nodded. "I'm not."

"You could kick his ass to China and back."

"I could."

"And he doesn't deserve you. You're too nice for him."

"I know."

"You guys are so adorable," Feliks interrupted them. He held out his phone and posed with the peace sign. "Gotta like, commemorate this sappy moment with a selfie."

The brothers glanced at each other and shook their heads. Then they laughed and the tense atmosphere evaporated.

* * *

 **I just really needed to write Feliks in this, okay? If Arthur gets Francis as his sassy blond friend, then Al and Matt get Feliks.**

 **If you don't know what D &D (Dungeons and Dragons) is, it's a fantasy tabletop role-playing game that's been around for like the past four decades. Players create characters who have set races and roles (like playing an elf who is a bard) and whoever is appointed as the DM (dungeon master) works as the game's god basically. The DM sets up the game, informs the players of the world setting and plot, and dictates what players are allowed to do (mostly depending on the numbers the players roll). Nowadays though you can play online. I've never played myself, but I've watched others play and it looks hella fun.**

 **No bonus scene this time. HOWEVER! I am working on a bonus scene, but it's kind of long, and since it deals with the plot anyway, I'm going to post it as its own chapter. Expect that to be posted by this weekend** **hopefully** **.**

 **LAST THING! Tell me something. What is your favorite Hetalia AU? But don't tell me here! I put up a poll on my profile, so go check that out please! And since you're on my profile, you might as well check out my other Hetalia stories. Just don't scroll down too far! Otherwise you'll get to my Fullmetal Alchemist phase. Don't go down there, trust me, I was a different person then, so young, so naïve.**


	13. Chapter 13

**That one time that Arthur drunk-vlogged.**

* * *

"He was the best friend I ever had!" Arthur sobbed into his arms.

Francis patted him on the back sympathetically, if a little exasperated. "Arthur, calm down. Jasper's still alive."

"No! No he's not! You're just telling me pretty lies!" the man slurred. "He's not here! I can't find him anywhere!"

"Arthur . . . he's not here because we're in a bar right now."

". . .wha?" Arthur looked up, scanning the room in confusion as if it was the first time he'd seen it. A couple of nearby patrons returned his stare, having witnessed his random ramblings and writing him off as another guy who drank too much (which he had). Honestly, how much had Arthur consumed by now? Even the bartender was giving Francis a pitying look.

"All right, looks like someone needs to be cut off," Francis said, moving to take his beer.

Arthur clutched at his glass childishly. "No, it's mine. Property of the United bloody Kingdom. You can't have it."

Francis snorted. He watched the drunken blond lazily lift the half-emptied glass of sloshing amber and drink heartily. A trickle of liquid ran down his chin.

Shaking his head, the Frenchman decided, "If you insist, that's yours, but no more after that." He sent the bartender a look that said he'd very well better cut Arthur off like he'd said if he'd like to keep his pub intact. Fortunately for everyone involved, the bartender nodded.

"Don't be . . . don't be like that tosser brat," Arthur murmured grumpily, sitting the glass back on the bar's surface. He stared into the cup as if wondering who drank most of its contents.

Francis sighed, plucking a napkin and wiping at Arthur's face where droplets clung. With his delayed reflexes, Arthur managed to lean away from him only after he had finished the job.

"Who's a tosser brat?" he asked out of duty, not really caring who his drunken friend referred to.

"You," Arthur spat out. Then, for some reason finding that answer hilarious, he began snickering to himself.

Rolling his eyes, Francis continued patiently, "Yes, but you were comparing me to someone. Who's the other tosser brat?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, sluggishly trying to recall what he'd said not ten seconds ago. He glanced to Francis for an answer and somehow remembered despite his level of intoxication.

"Peter," he growled sulkily. Then he proceeded to slump once more against the bar, this time pulling his nearly empty cup to him so that he could gnaw at the rim. The glass clinked against his teeth.

Francis remembered seeing Arthur's little brother on occasion, but the last he heard the boy had moved with their mother to America recently. He didn't bother trying to make sense of the comparison.

"You are very wasted," he concluded.

"Not near enough."

The way Arthur acted . . . It made Francis wonder if there was something legitimately bothering the man.

"Care to talk about it?" Francis suggested.

Perhaps the question was too vague, because Arthur looked at him, his bushy brows furrowed intensely, and snapped, "Talk about what? I don't want to talk. I want to drink. And I want my damn cat."

"I'm sure your cat is safe at home right now, Arthur, like you should be."

"I don't want to go home," Arthur moaned. Yes, definitely sulking about something. His head thunked against the wood and Francis had to lean in to hear his muffled words. "No one's there. No one's ever there. Just my fucking cat."

"But you love your cat."

"I love my fucking cat."

"Then what's the problem all of a sudden? I thought you enjoyed being alone."

"Shows what you know!" he shouted, actually startling Francis. Arthur glared at him, waving his arms around wildly as he yelled boisterously, "You don't know me! I built an empire! Was a pirate of the seas to be feared!"

"Do you want me to fear you?" Francis asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, damn it!"

"No. Now finish your beer so I can take you home." The finality in his tone sent Arthur back into his sulky state again.

"I don't want to," he whined, head connecting rather painfully against the hard counter. As if an afterthought, he added, "Ow..."

Francis began to think that going out for drinks with Arthur was more trouble than it was worth.

"You can't just live in the bar, Arthur," he argued reasonably.

Arthur sniffed, staring at his glass once more in contemplation. "I could. . . Then I wouldn't have to go home."

Sure, the Brit was three sheets to the wind and Francis could probably amount any of what he said to drunken talk; however, Francis couldn't shake the feeling that something, more than just a little something, was wrong here. Now that he thought about it, it was unusual in the first place for Arthur to suddenly invite him out for drinks. Usually it was Francis pestering Arthur until he agreed to spend time with him.

"Arthur, what's happened?" he demanded. When the only answer he received was a puzzled glance, Francis elaborated, "You don't want to go home. That part you've made fairly clear. So why? What are you avoiding?"

Arthur's gaze slid past him, green eyes staring into space sorrowfully while he continued to rest his head on the bar. From interpreting his expression, Francis knew that he'd ventured somewhere near the truth.

"They've all left me," he admitted quietly.

Francis's heart paused for a moment at the tone in his voice. He never knew a voice could sound so sad or so lonely. He could only listen with rapt attention as his companion continued.

"It's all Dad's fault. The bastard . . . What he did to Mum, to _us_. Alistair decked 'em in the eye, you know? He did that. Wish it had been me. He deserved it, you know . . . And Mum always did her best. Kept a stiff upper lip about it. But we know it got to her . . . Had to move all the way to _America_. Job opportunity. Right, right. She's just . . . running away. With Peter. Left me behind . . ."

Ah, so that was it. Francis knew Arthur's mother ever since he moved next door to the Kirkland household. Bridget Kirkland had always appeared to be a tough, caring woman, able to rear up five sons and make it look easy. She was divorced by the time Francis moved next door, so he'd neither met nor heard anything about Arthur's father. From how Arthur spoke of him now, he was not a man worth meeting in the first place.

Francis was curious about what happened, of course. All it would take was a nudge from him, and Arthur (in his drunken state) would no doubt rant all about it. But though Arthur's guard was lowered, Francis did not want to take advantage of him like that.

He clapped Arthur on the shoulder. " _Ne t'inquiète pas mon ami._ I am still here for you."

"What kind of sorry consolation prize . . ." Arthur began only to break off in grumpy mutterings.

Francis laughed and pulled out his wallet to pay their tab. Then he pulled Arthur up and out into the night despite the Brit's protests. After a time, Arthur gave up and let himself be carted all the way home.

"Do not look so glum," Francis told him as he walked Arthur up the short path to Arthur's house. "Your face will become stuck that way."

"I'll stick your face," Arthur retorted.

He swayed as Francis propped him up by the door. Francis tried to reach for his pockets to retrieve his house key, but Arthur swatted him away angrily and did it himself. As Francis waited for Arthur to figure out how the lock mechanism worked, he glanced towards Arthur's other neighbor's house. Was it him or did those curtains just move like someone was peeking out?

"Finally," Arthur breathed out and pushed the door open. Francis followed him in, both to make sure his friend didn't trip and to get away from any peering eyes. Arthur only spared him a momentarily perplexed look before he spotted the Scottish-fold curled up on the couch. "Oh my God, Jasper!"

The cat lifted its head, its ear flicking and eyes narrowed with drowsiness. It meowed softly in confusion as Arthur knelt on the floor beside the couch and proceeded to rub his face in white and orange fur.

"My pretty little kitty," Arthur chuckled. "Did you miss me?"

The cat stared accusingly at Francis for bringing its master back in such a sorry state. Francis had to squash the urge to apologize, such was the intensity in those slit-eyes.

"Arthur, perhaps it is time for bed—"

"Hold on," Arthur cut him off. He struggled with his coat pocket, retrieving a camera. "I've got to—to show the world!"

So much for getting Arthur to go quietly to bed. Francis watched as Arthur fumbled with the camera. Once on, he directed the lens at Jasper.

"This is a cat!" Arthur declared.

" _Mon Dieu_."

"You can tell because he's got a . . . a what's it called . . . Francis, what're they called?"

Francis sighed and sat down in a chair. Might as well make himself comfortable. "What are you talking about?"

"The thing. The—bloody fuck— what are they? They wag."

"Tails, Arthur."

"Tail!" he shouted at the discovery. Jasper flinched and stared at Arthur with wide, offended eyes. "Jasper, you have a tail. Did you know that?"

" _Mew_?"

"It's okay, Jaspy. I'm here for you. I love you. Let's shake on it."

Arthur tried to shake Jasper's paw and was bit for his efforts. Instead of snatching his hand back, Arthur just let himself be bit.

"How's it taste?" Arthur slurred.

Jasper stared up at him with large, dilated eyes. Its tail twitched aggressively. A growl sounded.

"Maybe he's allergic," Francis mused.

Arthur either ignored Francis's words or didn't hear them in the first place. He reached over to position the camera on the couch arm, cursed when it tumbled off, then managed to sit it correctly where it could record him and Jasper without him having to hold it.

"Stay," Arthur warned the camera like it was alive and would scurry off as soon as he turned his gaze away. Satisfied that the camera seemed to be behaving, he promptly forgot its existence in favor of his cat. "Are you teething on my fingers? Go ahead, I don't need 'em. I've got like . . . like twenty."

"You only have ten fingers," Francis corrected. His brows furrowed as he second-guessed himself. "As far as I am aware, that is." For all he knew, Arthur was an alien life-form. It would explain a lot actually.

Arthur sounded annoyed. "No I don't, twat. I've got—got more than that. On my feet."

"Those are toes."

"They're feet fingers, stupid cunt."

Francis decided then and there that he would find all the pain medication in Arthur's house and take them before he left that night. What a magnificent hangover Arthur would have in the morning.

"Aww, he's licking me. He's licking me, Francis," Arthur said with a giggle. "He likes me!"

"You do feed him," Francis commented.

"I shall get you a top hat," Arthur declared, petting Jasper with one hand while the cat licked at the other. "An itty, bitty top hat. Because my cat . . . is push."

"Push?"

"I meant posh. A posh, gentleman kitty. With a tiny monologue."

"You mean monocle?"

"Yeah, that," Arthur laughed. He rested his head by his cat and smiled at it like Jasper was the center of his universe (which was a definite possibility). "So cute."

Francis watched as Arthur continued to praise his cat. Jasper rewarded his owner by licking at his cheek, much to Arthur's giggling delight. Francis had to admit that the scene was . . . somewhat adorable. It was a good thing Arthur was recording it all, since he'd not doubt forget most of it by morning.

He let things go on until Arthur was falling asleep. Francis helped him up to the couch where he could lay down properly. He retrieved a blanket for good measure and remembered to turn off Arthur's camera.

"Take care now," Francis told both man and animal. Arthur was already snoring quietly, and from Jasper's position on his owner's stomach, the cat watched Francis sweep out the door, locking it behind him.

With his pockets filled with pills that Arthur would surely miss tomorrow, Francis stood outside of his friend's house for a moment to breathe in the night air.

 _Sssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_

Francis blinked at the soft sound of rain hitting the ground and leaves. But it wasn't raining at the moment . . .

He looked to his right where a looming figure stood with a large watering can, tilting it enough to sprinkle water out onto the beds of plants.

"Hey, Francis."

Francis jumped and was about to start begging for his life when he realized that he recognized this man. "B—Berwald, is that you?"

"Mm," was his only reply.

Francis felt very exposed, standing out here with nothing to defend himself. A watering can had never looked more threatening than now, with Berwald holding it while standing in the shadows.

He struggled to swallow and said, "What are . . . what are you doing, may I ask?"

Berwald shrugged his hulking shoulders. "Just waterin' the flowers."

"At midnight?" Francis wanted to say but kept his mouth shut. He knew exactly what was happening here. He had stumbled upon Berwald just as he was hiding a body, and Francis refused to be his next victim.

"Well, have fun! _Bonne nuit_!" he called and raced back to the safety of his own house.

Berwald watched the Frenchman run off. "Strange neighbors," he told himself and carried on watering his plants.

* * *

 **Now was Berwald being legit or was he just trying to be a nosy neighbor? Who knows.**

 **So according to my poll, Historical and Supernatural AUs are in the lead. Nice. I'm a sucker for 2ps or Omegaverse myself. It's ironic, Youtube AUs would probably be at the bottom of my favorite list, and yet here I am. I'm having fun, at least. :)**

 **Don't expect another quick update like this. I'm going to work on updating my other ongoing USUK story, "Vicarious". It's a serious romance in a college AU setting, and I'm really proud of the writing so far, so if you guys want to check it out and drop a review, I definitely won't complain!**


	14. Chapter 14

Lately, Matthew had been stressed by a number of things (passive-aggressive neighbor, overprotective brother, professors who asked for too much, part-time soul-killing job, possible crushing poverty). But Feliks's visit the other day had eased the growing tension on a couple of those issues, and even if the sometimes crossdressing blond could be a handful, he had good intentions. He loved to pry for information and gossip, but he also had some good advice.

"I think your neighbor likes you. You should totally go all alpha on him. Be his daddy dom. Put him in his place."

Well, occasionally he had good advice.

"I don't think Matthew is that assertive," Toris disputed without outright rejecting Feliks's idea. As usual, Feliks couldn't be reasoned with.

"It's always the quiet ones, Tory," Feliks warned and took a vicious bite of yogurt.

The three of them were eating lunch together on campus. They sat outside at one of the picnic-style tables underneath the shade of a tree. Around them other students ate or chatted with each other at their own tables. Lots of other students walked through the area to get to their next class or wherever, many of them with that glazed look in their eye, the kind that said, "I'm dead inside but I've already put three years of my life into this degree. I can't quit now." Those people contrasted nicely with the others who looked like they were thinking, "If I throw myself into oncoming traffic, maybe my professor will give me an extension on the paper."

It was sad how Matthew was not a stranger to either of those sentiments. Even sadder to think that all of this effort and student debt would be wasted on a degree that he probably wouldn't even use.

"Mattie? Mattie, Matthew, honey bun, are you listening? Oh my god, Tory, I think he's like drowning in crippling self-doubt."

"Isn't that normal for college students?"

"Yeah, but like, most people have the decency to do it behind closed doors. Not when you're hanging out with your friends. It's such a downer."

"I think Matthew's just been a little stressed lately. We should be there for him."

"Shit fam, you're right. Here, Mattie, open your mouth."

Matthew was startled from his depressing thoughts when a hand gripped his chin and yanked him around and away from gawking at the passersby. He opened his mouth to protest but sputtered at the spoon that shoved past his lips. The cool taste of strawberry assaulted his tongue.

"Praise Jesus and Buddha or whatever, he's alive," Feliks announced over Matthew's coughing. "I should like, totally be a doctor or something. I'm a fucking miracle worker."

"Why are you choking me with yogurt?" Matthew asked. He thumped at his chest to overcome the coughing fit.

"You were unresponsive," Toris said, soft green eyes watching him with concern. "Are you feeling alright? Need us to take you home?"

"Oh, oh no, that's okay," Matthew rushed to assure him. If Matthew was prone to miserable bouts now and then, Toris could take it to another level. He was the kind who worried himself sick over others, which made his friendship with Feliks sort of masochistic when you think about it . . .

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Maybe just a little tired."

Feliks pointed at him sternly. "That's what I'm telling you. You need a break or something. You're going to get wrinkles if you keep stressing about stuff."

Matthew smiled wryly. "Don't we all need a break."

"Yes, that's why you're taking one. Like today."

"Thanks Feliks, but I do still have stuff to do." Matthew stared down at the sandwich he had been eating. He went to pick it up, but Feliks snatched it up and held it hostage.

"Don't give me that," Feliks said, zeroing his green eyes at him, green eyes that were far more obtrusive than Toris's. "I know you keep ahead with your work, so you for sure can afford one afternoon off. Just chill out and go hang out with your brother or something. Like seriously, when's the last time you relaxed?"

"When you came over and we watched _Legally Blonde_ ," Matthew gladly pointed out. See? He wasn't a workaholic. He could relax.

Feliks rolled his eyes and looked at Toris. "Can you believe this guy?"

Toris didn't catch on. "What do you mean?"

Feliks seemed done with both of them. "I _mean_ that you only did that because I like forced you to. Name the last time you took a break yourself?"

Matthew thought about mentioning when he went out to eat with Ivan, or the last time he played video games with Alfred, but he slowly started realizing that there was a pattern. In all of the scenarios he could think of, it was always someone else who convinced him to do something besides work. Even the times Matthew would catch up on his favorite shows; he only watched TV while he was eating and then it was right back to the books.

When was the last time he had an honest to God day off?

Despite himself, Matthew ended up agreeing with Feliks. He let them take him home rather than catch a bus. They didn't stick around, having plans themselves, but Feliks left him with a firm warning to relax or else he would ground him.

Matthew stood in the living room looking around, feeling lost in his own apartment. His first instinct was to go to his bedroom and check his email or assignment schedule, maybe study his notes from his morning lecture. Somehow, he felt like Feliks would find out if he did.

Alfred's bedroom door was closed, a sure sign that he was in there. In his own way, his brother was just as much a workaholic. Their parents had worried in the beginning about him dropping out of college to play video games, but it's not like Alfred didn't put a lot of time and effort into creating content for people to enjoy. He just happened to have fun while doing it.

Matthew glanced into the kitchen and found a pile of empty plastic bags on the table, meaning that Alfred had went grocery shopping earlier at some point. Alfred did stuff like that, took on a lot of the household tasks so that Matthew wouldn't have to be bothered. He did most of the shopping, the cleaning, making sure the bills were paid. Matthew was actually the forgetful one, and with how packed his schedule tended to be, Matthew probably wouldn't be able to keep up with all of that if it was left to him.

As Matthew put the plastic bags away to be recycled later, he thought about work and passions and all the little things that Alfred had done for him. After he was done, he went to Alfred's closed door. He leaned in, ear pressed to the door, but he didn't hear any voices. Alfred must not be recording at the moment.

It couldn't hurt. Just for one afternoon.

Matthew knocked at the door. He heard shuffling on the other side and a moment later the barrier disappeared. Alfred leaned against the doorjamb, wearing his work-out clothes. Ah, so he must have gone to the gym earlier too. What if he was tired . . .

"What's up, bro?" he asked, a hint of a smile on his face. In his hands he twirled his phone around and around.

Matthew pushed his hands into his pockets, suddenly cowed. "Uh . . . what are you doing?"

"Me? I was just messaging Gil. He wants me to join in with some other people and we were gonna stream."

"Oh. Okay," Matthew said, nodding. Although he was looking more at the floor, he caught the way Alfred's brows raised.

"Why? You good?"

"Yeah, I was just seeing what you were doing." Matthew shrugged like it didn't really matter to him.

When Alfred wanted to be, he could be perceptive. He glanced at his phone and then back to Matthew. "Want me to tell him I'm busy?"

"What? No, no. You already said you would. I was just seeing what you were up to."

"It's whatever, dude. We can stream another time. Oh hey, we should catch a movie! We haven't done that in forever. Let me jump in the shower real quick. Here, check for what's playing." Alfred tossed Matthew his phone, as if Matthew didn't have one himself. Then he hurried into the bathroom, barely thinking to close the door behind him.

Matthew could be doing something else. He could be studying or getting a head start on a research paper he knew was coming up. And Alfred had stuff to do too. He already had plans, and yet he threw them out the window without a second thought.

 _Has it really been that long since we've done this?_ Matthew wondered. They used to have movie nights together. They'd find a showing for a new movie or they'd sit on the couch with too much popcorn and watch classics. It used to be their _thing_.

Matthew pulled up movie listings and tried not to feel too guilty.

* * *

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"How many brothers did you say you have?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"None. I was an only child and had a peaceful upbringing without siblings there to ruin it."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Oh come onnnn! You can't always disown them like that."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Wishful thinking. Fine, I have four. Why the sudden interest?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Just wondering if they share your thickness."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Thickness?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Yeah, with your eyebrows. You could probably hide a small child in those babies."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"The only child I see here is you."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Excuse me, but what child has rocking abs like this! …I'm totally lifting my shirt right now for you to see my awesome bod."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"No thank you. Considering what country you live in, there's more likely to be flab than abs under that shirt."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I work out! And I drink diet soda! I'm like super healthy and muscular and not fat at all!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Yes, because diet soda is the epitome of health. Didn't you say that hamburgers were your favorite food?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Irrelevant! I could still run a mile while carrying you and not break a sweat!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"…could you really?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Hell to the yeah! Want me to prove it? Let's go bruh!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Certainly. Just hop over the pond and be here by tea time."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"No need dude. The next time we video chat I'll just take off my shirt. You'll see how fit I am."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"That really isn't necessary."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I think it is. Ya know, I actually streamed shirtless one time."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Are you that desperate for compliments?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Nah, it was for a charity stream. The compliments were just extra. Some were too extra."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"How is something 'too extra'?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Well, like I get a lot of comments that are like . . . I don't know, really sexual."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Now you're just bragging."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"No, I'm really not trying to. I'm all for freedom of speech, but some people do too much, like they talk about what they want to do to me. In THAT way, ya know? And it's really uncomfortable when I think about the age demographic of my viewers and how a lot of those comments come from underage teenagers. You know what I mean?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I get my share of troubling comments, from pricks who tell me to off myself or criticize what I look like and so on. I try not to pay those any mind. They're not worth my time."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Oh yeah, I get those too. Those people who are just 'why do people watch you, go die'. Like that's not cool at all. We're just trying to have a good time and trolls like that wanna be haters. I don't think they were hugged enough as children."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Most of them probably are children."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Truuuue. So, we got way off topic from what I wanted to ask you."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"That would be your own fault."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"What can I say, you're very distracting darlin' ;)"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Must be my incredibly large eyebrows."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"For your information, I really like your eyebrows. They make you look distinguished."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Distinguished. . . ."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"So, my question I wanted to ask you."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Distinguished."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"About your brothers."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Distinguished."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"How many times are you going to say that?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I figured if I repeated it enough times you would explain yourself."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Nope. You look distinguished. Anyway, are you really not that close with your brothers?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Why the sudden interest?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I don't know, cuz it's about you. And I hung out with Matt yesterday. We went and saw a movie. It was cool. Guess I was wondering if you hung out with your bros too."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"My older brothers are spread out through the UK. I live in our childhood home, in England, so now and then they come to visit. The youngest, Peter, lives in your part of the world with our mum."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Wait, you have family over here in the states?!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Yes, is it really that surprising?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Where?! What state?!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I'm not telling you where they live, Alfred."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Come on dude. You know you want to."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"No."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Ugh, fine then. Be that way! At least tell me what your bros are like."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Why are you so interested?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"You already know about my bro. And I want to know more about you."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"If you keep insisting, then I guess I have no choice. Gather round and let me tell you a tale of miscreants."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I'm so pumped yo. Gimme all the tales!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"We'll start with the youngest, who I mentioned before. He's the easiest to tolerate of the four."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"OMG YOU'RE RHYMING!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"A boy of fifteen, Peter is his name. He believes in Santa though I can't say the same."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"LE GASP, YOU MONSTER! How can you not believe in Santa? I bet he brings you coal every year."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Peter's a proud fellow with an optimistic outlook. He'd rather watch anime than pick up a book."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Honestly same."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Next we have Rhys, the third eldest son. We can never tell if he's joking or making fun."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Ooooh, mysterious."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"A dreamer at heart, his head's stuck in the clouds. And he was a sheep in a past life, as odd as it sounds."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"What?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"He claims to be an eccentric lad, but we all know that he's simply bleeding mad."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"So did he decide the sheep thing himself or . . .?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Next in line is Patrick, quite a gullible lad. And yet he became a doctor, so he's not half bad."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Is he also a starfish?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Where the hell did that come from?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Ya know, Patrick the starfish!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"That explains nothing to me."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"No one appreciates my Spongebob references :/"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"May I continue?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"YES PLEASE!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Patrick's home consists of a lovely Irish venue, but if you make a leprechaun joke I won't continue."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I swear I wasn't going to say anything about Lucky Charms."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"The final and eldest brother is Alistair. He doesn't deserve my rhymes."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"ARTHUUUUUUUR!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"What? He doesn't. He's an arse."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Name one positive thing about him."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"You ask too much of me."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"I only said ONE!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Exactly. He has no redeeming qualities."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Everyone has something that's good about them!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Of course you would think that."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"One thing, Arthur. Gimme one thing."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"He's . . . frugal, I suppose."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"There! Was that so hard?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"He's also a noisy braggart."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Arthur, you were having a moment there. Why ya gotta ruin it?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Alistair and I whinge about each other all the time. It's practically a game with us."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"So he's not actually a bad bro?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"He's not a bad person if that's what you're asking. Just highly annoying."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Does he also live in Ireland?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"North Ireland rather, is where Patrick lives. But no, Alistair lives in Scotland. And before you ask, no, he neither plays the bagpipes nor wears kilts all the time. Only sometimes at celebrations."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"What about the sheep guts food thing? Does he eat that?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Haggis? He does enjoy it, yes. I'm not too fond of it though."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Oh what about your sheep bro? You didn't say where he lives. In England?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Rhys lives in Wales. I did say we were spread throughout the UK."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"He lives in Wales? Like…Geppetto?"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Who is that?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Ya know, Pinocchio's dad who got swallowed by a wale and Pinocchio had to go save him. You need to catch up on your Disney, bruh."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Alfred, you idiot. Not whales as in the sea creature. Wales as in the country."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Ooooooh, I knew that. :)"_

* * *

Outside of the apartment building around the back was a strip of grassy area decorated with exactly two trees. The trees weren't especially tall, nothing like you would see in a sprawling forest. But there were some bushes scattered here and there. Their thick, dark green masses often hid nesting birds.

Today, there was a cat hiding in one.

Ivan first heard the feline before he saw it. For such a small thing it had a good set of vocal chords. The meows came one after another in a way that Ivan mistook it for being hurt. He approached and reached under the prickly brambles where he caught glimpses of white fur. For his efforts, a set of nails dug into the vulnerable flesh of his hand.

Ivan sat cross-legged on the ground nearby. The cat (kitten maybe?) remained in the shadows of the bush, no longer meowing.

"You have very poor manners," Ivan noted. He rotated his wrist, looking down at the thin scratches on the back of his hand. Too shallow to bleed, yet there enough to sting. "That is not how you greet someone who is trying to help you."

The cat sat curled up, content to sit and wait. Ivan could be patient as well.

He glanced up at the sky. "It is very cloudy, isn't it? The weatherman said it would rain today. But I have a home with a roof, so I don't have to worry about becoming a drowned rat. What about you? What do you have?"

The cat blinked and looked away, misleadingly nonchalant. It wasn't trapped in there. It could run away at any moment.

"Why did you come here, kitten? Does the bush make you feel safe? It doesn't seem too comfortable."

Ivan propped his elbow on a knee and rested his chin in his hand. His eyes glazed over, lost in thought. "Safety is more important than comfort. You don't trust me. You're a smart kitten. There aren't many people you can trust."

A cool breeze moved through the trees and bushes. The wind, gentle in its dance, rocked the limbs and ruffled Ivan's hair. Not too far away, he could hear the sweeping sounds of near constant traffic.

"It gets lonely, doesn't it?" Ivan asked. He smiled and closed his eyes. "I know what that's like. We could be friends. You can trust your friends. What do you say, kitten?"

Ivan peeked out of one eye. The cat looked back over to him, still quiet, but that was all Ivan needed. He grinned.

"That's it then! We will be good friends! So you come out when you are ready."

Minutes passed by. Ivan toyed with the end of his scarf, humming and daydreaming about the cat warming up to him and joining him in his apartment. He was so distracted that he almost missed Matthew leaning around a corner of the pale brick building. Seeing that he was spotted, Matthew jumped a little like a scared rabbit preparing to run from a great big bear. Matthew was silly like that.

"Matthew!" Ivan called, waving and smiling pleasantly. People liked you when you smiled, so Ivan tried to remember to smile a lot.

"Hey . . . Ivan," Matthew waved back weakly. The poor man was terribly shy. Ivan had spent the past couple of weeks engaging Matthew in conversation or inviting him out in an effort to open him up. But it seemed the college student was still not used to him. Or perhaps there was another reason for his behavior at the moment?

"I hope everything is alright?" Maybe something was wrong with his brother? What if Alfred was in the hospital? Oh, that would be exciting!

"Yeah, everything's fine," Matthew quickly assured him. Ivan waited a moment, since Matthew looked like he wanted to say something. He fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. "Um, so what are you doing?"

"Oh, that's right!" Ivan exclaimed, remembering the cat. He glanced back to make sure the cat was still there. Then he waved Matthew towards him. "Come here, Matthew. I want you to meet my new friend."

"A bush?" Matthew asked, warily approaching.

Ivan chuckled. "You are funny, Matthew. Bushes do not make good companions. They are good places for hiding though. My friend is in there. Can you see him?"

Matthew's curiosity compelled him to crouch by Ivan so that he could point out where to look for white fur and slit-eyes. Matthew pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, tilting forward to see better.

"Is that . . . a cat?" Matthew asked in a hushed whisper.

"It is, but he is not very good at handshakes," Ivan said, holding up his scratched hand. "I think he's warming up to me though. I've been keeping him company."

"Oh," was all Matthew could say. He seemed surprised. Whether by Ivan's commitment to a stray or the existence of a cat in close proximity, Ivan didn't know. Whatever was going through Matthew's mind, he knelt down more naturally beside Ivan, his usual nervous demeanor gone. "Is he okay? Is he stuck, you think?"

"I think he isn't stuck at all. He will come out when he wants to. Isn't that right, kitten?"

" _Tch_ , _tch_ , _tch_. C'mere. It's okay," Matthew called, clicking his tongue. He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. The cat, sensing it was being called, meowed in answer but refused to move. "Do you think he belongs to someone who lives here?"

"If he does, then his owners are irresponsible. Yao would know who owns pets here." Their landlord allowed small pets in the apartment complex, for an extra fee of course.

"Oh, I'll go ask him!" Matthew volunteered. He bounced up, nearly smiling in excitement. "Stay here and keep an eye on him. I'll be right back."

After Matthew hurried away, Ivan turned back to the cat and confided, "I think I like this Matthew." It was nice to see a different side of him. Matthew did say he loved animals. Ivan should have used that to his advantage earlier.

He didn't have to wait long. Matthew came back, holding a can of food in his hands.

"Yao said only two residents have cats, but neither of them have white fur. So this one must be a stray. And then he gave me tuna and pretty much ordered me to not let him starve."

"Maybe he has a soft spot for animals as well?" Ivan mused. He didn't know much about Yao outside of his family being from China. That and he was very unforgiving about due dates for rent.

"I guess," Matthew murmured, more concerned at the moment with peeling the lid off of the can and sitting the tuna close to the bush. He took it slow, aware of how the cat stiffened with the intent to run. "It's okay. I'm just giving you some food. Are you hungry?"

" _Meeeooooow_ ," the cat droned out. He smiled in response and moved back to sit with Ivan to give the cat space.

Ivan gauged Matthew's expression, seeing how intent he was to take care of the cat. "If you like cats so much, why don't you own one? Is it because of your brother?"

"Hm? Oh, no, we both like cats. We just . . . Well, I wanted to wait until after I graduated. I'm always busy as it is, and being a pet owner's a big responsibility."

"Like having children but more cute," Ivan agreed.

Matthew laughed, and Ivan realized that he hadn't heard Matthew really laugh until now. It was a soft, breathy sound that he could definitely get used to. "Yeah, something like that."

"I see . . . Let me tell you something, Matthew." He looked up at Ivan at the sudden serious tone. That was good. Ivan wanted Matthew to listen carefully to him. "You will always be busy with something or other. That is part of life. What do you plan to do after you graduate?"

Matthew's mouth hung open for a moment, confused at what he was getting at. He answered nonetheless. "I . . . haven't decided. I thought about grad school, but I'd also like to start working—"

"That is what I mean. There is always something to keep you busy, now that you're an adult. You put off what you want now because you're already too concerned with the future. Children aren't like that. They don't need to worry about the future. They live in the present. Except the ones who must grow up too fast."

Matthew considered his words and shrugged. "That is a part of life, like you said."

Ivan wagged his finger at him, correcting him. "Ah, but I said that being busy is a part of life. Not putting off what you want. That is what _you_ are doing."

"So it's not the same thing?"

"Not at all." Ivan looked back at the cat. It had ventured out to eat the tuna. It laid low to the ground, tail wrapped around its legs. With it out in the open, he could see that it wasn't completely white; it sported a ring of dark fur around its neck.

"I work hard, Matthew. I work so that my little sister can stay a child for as long as she can. She lives with our older sister, and she'll be going to college soon, like you. We're not an especially fortunate family, nor are there many of us. Just the three of us. Between Katyusha and I, Natalia will be able to get a good education. But if I didn't also live for myself, that would be pitiful, wouldn't it?"

Matthew watched the cat now as well. He plucked at the grass, struggling for something to say. ". . . it's a good thing, what you're doing for your sister."

"It is. I'm glad you think me better for it. But do you think less of me for thinking of myself as well?"

Stunned, he snapped his gaze back to Ivan. "What? No, of course not. I understand what you're saying, but it's not like I don't think of myself too. That's what I'm working for, why I'm going to school and have a job. This is why I study so hard. Because I want a good career."

Ivan shook his head and smiled, this time a bit sadly. "I don't think you do understand. You're not putting in so much effort so that you can be happy now. You're working so you can be happy later. And I think that is sad."

Matthew couldn't look at Ivan now. He was flustered, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say a great deal of things. If he let himself, Ivan believed the first thing he'd say was, "I didn't ask for your opinion." Ivan sensed a fire in Matthew that he'd never suspected existed. Matthew was a meek person, but he wasn't _just_ meek. And that's why Ivan bothered at all.

"You think it's not my place to say," Ivan guessed as he leaned back, his arms propping him up behind him.

The breeze had turned too cold, and it would be getting dark soon.

"It's your life, Matthew. You can wait until later. But many people do not get a later. That is why I do what I want now. Because I deserve to be happy now, not just later. That is what I think."

The cat meowed, daring to venture closer and nose around Matthew's legs for more food. He hovered his hand over its head and the cat closed blue eyes to rub its face against his fingers. It wasn't too young, though not full grown yet. Its fluffy fur made up most of its mass, some of it matted here and there, and Ivan suspected it was thinner underneath all that fur.

"He likes you," Ivan said, watching how the cat warmed right up to Matthew. Its front paws rested on his leg, letting it stretch up to sniff at his face.

Matthew scratched under its chin and said fondly, "Yeah, I think he does."

* * *

 **I wanted to highlight why Matthew's been a little . . .** _ **extra**_ **lately. He's just a college student is all, lol. And I think Ivan has something to say here for Matt's situation and the importance of finding balance. It's okay to choose yourself sometimes.**

 **And yes, we have a new kitty on board. And I suppose it's Americat. And I suck at names, so please tell me in a review what I should name the cat. Also, should it be a girl or a boy? I'd be down for a girl cat, if only just for the reprieve in all these masculine pronouns.**

 **So I had a cool bonus scene planned, but stuff's going on in my life and I feel dead inside, so I don't feel up to it. Sorry, maybe next time. It might be a while before I update too. I'm hoping to move soon, because where I am is just . . . toxic. So yeah, if I'm absent for a while, that's why.**

 **BUT HERE! HAVE SOME FANART! Check out ChildOfTheMoon86 on deviantart. They drew some nice art of Arthur and Alfred's skype chat. The art is called "First Meeting".**


	15. Chapter 15

**AlfredtheHero:** _"DUDE!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"GOD DOES EXIST!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"A MIRCALE HAS HAPPENED!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"PLZ TELL ME U CAN GET ONLINE RN!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"ARTHUR! I HAVE 2 SHOW U THIS!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"YO BRITISH DUDE!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"R U DEAD?! PLZ DON'T BE DEAD!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"WHO'S GONNA TAKE CARE OF JASPER IF UR DEAD?!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Artie…?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"…Bush did 9/11."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"What the hell are you going on about, you twat?"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"ARTHUR! UR ALIVE!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Unfortunately."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Wowza, someone's grumpy."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"Yes! Because YOU woke me up with all of your messages making my phone go off! Do you realize it's seven in the morning? On my day off!"_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Oh yeah, time zone's exist. But dude this is more important than sleep."_

 **Cat Owner:** _"I have never wanted to strangle you more than I do now."_

 **AlfredtheHero:** _"Embrace the hatred like its ur morning coffee. C'mon and call me. I gotta show u something!"_

 **Cat Owner:** _"If I feel like it."_

Arthur laid aside his phone. Alfred didn't give up, if the following chimes were anything to go by. Arthur ignored them and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Beside him on the bed, Jasper's head rose and shook. The cat meowed in confusion, blinking barely opened eyes at Arthur as if to ask him what the racket was about.

"It's alright," Arthur yawned out, patting at Jasper's folded ears. "He's just being a selfish prat is all. Wanting me to wake up and get out of bed. Who does he think he is? Like the world revolves around him . . ."

Was this a sign that their friendship had reached a level where they could annoy each other? If so, Alfred had more than accomplished that. There was a small part of Arthur that felt delighted that Alfred was so eager to show him something, something he claimed was important. But mostly any happiness was overshadowed by tiredness. He should take Alfred to task. And while he was at it, maybe point out all of his typos. The American's messages were usually of a higher quality. Arthur wondered if Alfred's spelling and grammar suffered whenever he was overexcited or if Alfred simply was comfortable enough now to show his true colors.

Arthur shivered and tried to console himself. It couldn't be that bad for the most part, seeing as the boy had gone to university for a time. Well, he wasn't really a boy. Not that Arthur had ever asked Alfred about his age . . . He was at least twenty, yes? Even if he was twenty, Arthur was twenty-five and didn't that make him feel like a lecher? How he'd ogled Alfred.

…how he'd keep ogling Alfred, age difference be damned.

Arthur took his sweet time in getting up and preparing tea for himself. If he was sacrificing sleep, he'd need the caffeine. Not that he was sacrificing sleep for Alfred's sake! Really, it was just that there were some things around the house that he needed to get around to doing, and there was always something from work to do anyway. It would be efficient to get Alfred's call out of the way, see what he wanted, and then move on with the day.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Arthur sat at his computer desk with a fresh cuppa. Jasper stayed curled up in bed, lucky bastard.

As he connected to Alfred, Arthur wondered what could be so important that he'd want to talk to Arthur in the middle of the night. It had to be, what, around one in the morning where Alfred lived? Did something big come up or was this when Alfred was usually awake? He did work from home after all, and making your own schedule was a nice benefit.

"Artie!" Alfred cried out in delight once they had connected. His face appeared on screen, choppy at first before evening out. The light was turned on, making it easy to see Alfred sitting in his chair, headphones on, and wearing a Batman T-shirt.

It was at that moment that Arthur realized that he was still wearing his pajamas. They weren't embarrassing mind you, just a plain light turquoise set. It was just . . . God, how could he forget to change into something more appropriate?! He hadn't even brushed his hair! Not that it would have done much of any good, but it was the fact he hadn't thought about it a single time before deciding to call Alfred. He must have been groggier this morning than he had realized.

"Hello . . ." Arthur answered, trying not to look like he was freaking out about his current choice of fashion. Maybe he'd be lucky and Alfred would be too distracted to notice, or the camera wouldn't be clear enough to really see. Or maybe Alfred would be too polite not to comment. If Alfred didn't say anything about his pajamas, Arthur wouldn't point out his superhero T-shirt either.

"The best thing happened yesterday!" Alfred gushed, already diving into things.

Arthur stopped himself from sighing in relief. He took a drink from his tea to mask the emotion and said a bit too perkily, "Oh? Do tell me all about it."

"The Russian mafia gave us a cat!"

"Hm, yes, that's wonderful ." Leave it to Alfred to be too excited to be observant. And early morning annoyances aside, Alfred was rather dashing when he was bright-eyed and eager like this. Arthur could kiss him. He could kiss him so hard that his glasses would be askew and . . . wait a tick. "Did you just say the mafia?"

" _Russian_ mafia." Alfred nodded and squirmed in his seat like he was about to launch off. "It's our neighbor, Ivan. He says he's not in the Russian mafia, but his family is from over there, so he's totally gotta be!"

Arthur leveled an unimpressed stare at him. "Yes, because everyone from Russia must be in the mafia."

Alfred nodded even more spastically and Arthur was afraid his head would snap off. The American was entirely too hyper. "I know, right?! Most people think I'm crazy, but it's not a conspiracy if it's true. But dude, check this out."

Alfred rolled his seat back and turned towards where a corner of what must be his bed could be seen. He reached off camera and picked up something white and held it to his chest gently. He scooted back up to the computer.

"Isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Alfred cooed, pitch high. He held up what had to be the fluffiest cat Arthur had ever seen. Arthur couldn't discern the breed, though 'ragamuffin' did come to mind. Its eyes blinked in a way that said it had been sleeping before Alfred disturbed it. It let out a soft, confused meow.

Arthur's heart just about melted.

"Oh, he's precious!" Arthur praised, unable to contain a large smile. "And he's yours? You didn't just steal him from your neighbor, did you?"

Alfred lowered the cat so that his face could be seen again. His eyes rolled. "No Arthur, I didn't steal him. Ivan, our neighbor, found him outside of the apartment building yesterday. He was gonna take him in himself, but this little guy _really_ didn't like Ivan. But he liked Mattie just fine when he went out and helped feed him. So we kinda just brought him into our apartment and gave him a bath and stuff."

Arthur cringed at all the memories of when he had to give Jasper baths. They were excruciating, for both of them. "I hope you didn't get too many scratches for your efforts."

"Oh no, he was actually pretty chill about it. He would try to jump out every now and then and kept meowing at us all sad like, 'Guys, I don't need this, I'm self-cleaning.' So I threw in a rubber ducky to distract him and turns out he really likes rubber duckies. You should've seen it, it was too cute."

Why did Alfred get a relatively calm cat while Arthur was saddled with a demon? Yet another example that the world was an unfair place.

"You just happen to have rubber duckies on hand, hm?" Arthur asked.

Alfred realized what he had implied during his story. He froze, mouth hanging open for too long as he searched for a response. Finally, his eyes darted to the side and he let out an unsure, "Noooo . . ."

Arthur smirked. "Right, of course not." Alfred was a terrible liar and far too adorable for his own good.

"A-anyway, about my cat," Alfred said, hugging the animal to him. The cat plopped against him without a care. "We settled him in, and today was super busy. Our parents swung by because Mom heard we had a cat and she wanted to pet it. And then we had to take the cat to a vet to check it out, make sure it was okay and everything. They gave 'em some shots and said he was pretty much healthy except that he was underweight."

"So you're really keeping it then," Arthur surmised. "And here I remember when you said that you and your brother weren't going to get a pet until later on."

"Well, it just kinda happened, ya know?" Alfred said, scratching up and down the feline's back. The cat snuggled its face under Alfred's chin and he smiled at it. "He's like the most chill cat ever too. He wants attention and meows a lot and follows us around until we pick him up, but if you just let him lay on you he'll relax and just sit there. He likes to cuddle, don't ya buddy?"

"Have you thought about names yet?" Arthur asked. Knowing Alfred, he'd probably think of some weird ones. He'd have to try to discourage him if that was the case, for the cat's sake at least.

"Yeah, we've been talking about it," Alfred said. Then he huffed out a laugh, "Ivan suggested a couple. He said we should name 'em Sundrop or Sunflower. Nah dude, our cat's gotta sound kickass!"

"And just what constitutes as a kickass name?"

"I was thinking maybe calling him Hero, since he'll take after me of course. That or I'll call him Amelia Earhart."

Arthur blinked slowly, but it seemed Alfred was serious. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Amelia Earhart a _female_ pilot?"

"Pfft, he's a cat. What does he know about gender norms?"

Well . . . he couldn't argue against that.

Alfred scratched under the cat's chin and Arthur could barely make out the sounds of it purring. Alfred went on, "I thought maybe calling him Earhart for short. I dunno though."

"Does Matthew have any ideas?"

Alfred scowled. "Matt's bad with names, so he just said we should call him Cat."

Arthur chuckled. "Fitting, if nothing else."

"No, it's not! That'd be like one of us having a baby and then naming it Human. Where's the creativity? The individuality? See, this is why Matt can't live without me. His life would be like a cake without any icing. Who wants that?"

"There are plenty of cakes made without icing, Alfred. And plenty of people like them just fine."

"I mean like real people, Arthur. Cakes are supposed to be festive and colorful, and without the icing the cake is sad and naked and all alone because nobody wants it."

"Are you suggesting that your brother would be sad, naked, and unwanted without you?"

"Well, we _are_ a package deal. Us being twins and all. Why have one when you can have two?"

"I'm sure a lot of mothers out there would beg to differ, but if you say so mate."

Alfred caught the sarcasm and grinned like he'd accomplished something. He leaned back a little in his chair, allowing the cat to spread out more on his chest and stomach. "Yep. So yeah, I'm gonna give him an actual name. I tried googling for popular cat names in the US and found Leo or Max but I'm not sure if those fit as well."

"You googled for names?" Arthur asked, snickering.

Alfred got offended. "Hey, what's wrong with Google? It has all the answers."

"It does, it does," Arthur agreed, trying to stifle his laughter. He wasn't so much as laughing at Alfred but at the reminder that he himself had done the same thing: googled for popular cat names and found Jasper in a list. Not that he would admit to that.

"Well how did you come up with Jasper's name then?" Alfred challenged.

As it had already been established that Arthur wouldn't admit to the truth, Arthur played it off with a shrug and answered, "It was one of the names suggested to me and it was the one that stuck."

"Hm," Alfred hummed shortly, though he didn't look like he was about to dispute him. He began to sway his chair back and forth slowly. "You got any suggestions for me?"

Arthur predicted the question and was pleased to give his opinion on the matter. "How about Cheshire?"

Alfred pulled a mildly alarmed face. "Cheshire? The hell is that?"

Miffed at the reaction, he defended his choice, "The Cheshire Cat? From _Alice in Wonderland_? Please tell me you know that much."

"Ooooooh, that thing. Yeah, that thing's creepy."

"In what way?"

"Uh, every way? It teleports and smiles like a serial killer."

"He's not . . . well, the Cheshire Cat _is_ a tad mental and mischievous," Arthur conceded with a pout. "But he isn't a bad character."

"I bet he was trying to kill Alice the whole time."

"I get it, you don't like my suggestion," Arthur huffed, having enough. He could argue about the merits of the Cheshire Cat's character, but it would be a moot point with Alfred, seeing as he was fixated on the cat's image.

"I dunno. I kinda like Cheshire itself, just not the creepy serial killer cat it's named after."

Surprised that Alfred was somewhat considering it, Arthur commented, "If it helps, the Cheshire Cat predates the novel. It's just more known for appearing in _Alice_ -related contexts."

"What do you mean?"

"What?"

"What do you mean about a novel? What novel?"

It took Arthur a minute to sort out what Alfred meant, mostly because to Arthur it was so obvious. "Alfred, before it was a Disney movie, it was first a book. A book called _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ , by Lewis Carroll."

Alfred was so taken aback that he sat straight up in his seat. The fluffy white cat complained loudly as it slumped into its new owner's lap, but Alfred didn't pay it much mind. "What? Since when was it a novel?"

"Since 1865?"

"Dude, that's like, ancient. Seriously?"

"If you don't believe me, ask Google. It does have all the answers, or so I've heard."

"Challenge accepted!" Alfred declared and Arthur watched in satisfaction as he searched for the inevitable results. Alfred gazed at his computer screen, eyes narrowed, mouth hanging slightly open. "Man, that's so weird. I can't believe this. Next you'll be telling me double-decker buses actually exist."

There was the longest pause of silence in which Arthur wondered if Alfred was joking or if he'd been living under a rock his whole life. In the end, he remembered that Alfred was American, and that really did explain everything.

"Hey, is it just me, or are you wearing pajamas?"

Damn everything.

* * *

 **Credit for some of the name for Americat here came from reviewers suggestions. Who knows what Alfred will decide as the final verdict.**

 **Thank you for all the reviews and well wishes. I did in fact end up moving out a week ago. Not with my friend like I had hoped though. My new home is . . . well, it's still not a good environment, might be worse in some ways in fact, but at least here I have some more opportunities. Mostly I'm focused on getting a job around here. Here's hoping.**

 **I really wanted this chapter to be longer, had planned to add a part from Alfred's PoV, but I don't have the time and I've felt bad for keeping you all waiting. So I'm sorry if the quality suffered, but yeah, it's been stressful.**

 **ONE LAST THING THOUGH! I have posted some one-shots since the last time I updated this story, if you want something to read. One features the Kirkland brothers going cow tipping, if that's any incentive for you. Oh, and I posted another USUK story, but it's fem!US/UK, so it features Amelia. It's a fun small story that helped me not feel so stressful, and I've got the next two parts for it written if I can just find time to edit them. Fingers crossed!**


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